


Against Cosmic Odds - A Mike Stout Epic Adventure

by tebralit



Series: Anomaly Journals [1]
Category: Action - Fandom, Adventure - Fandom, Alien, Extra-terrestrial, Fantasy - Fandom, Historical Fiction, Science Fiction - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Science Fiction, action adventure, epic fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-13 05:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5697136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebralit/pseuds/tebralit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine if you could fly like a bird, Mike Stout can. But he's prey to the alien who made him an orphan.<br/>Can another alien, a rebel, keep him alive to save the world?<br/>Following a blast that killed his family, eleven year old Mike wakes up alone, orphaned. He find temporary shelter with his friend Charlie's family, but being there, his presence jeopardizes Charlie's freedom.<br/>When a rebel from the killer's planet adopts him, she takes him to her base and Mike discovers why his family was targeted. He learns alien ways and can merge with birds and fly. But when he and Charlie help a runaway, Hannah and her friend Aurelia, they must run from a corrupt sheriff in league with the alien killer.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Assassin

Az-Rak parted the curtain of tall grass and weeds surrounding his hide, an old weather beaten horse wagon. Peering downrange, his pulse quickened as the power level on his weapon approached maximum and locked onto its target, a two-level cabin on the edge of the forest. He took a deep breath and let it out again, savoring his moment of triumph. Master would be pleased.  
Just then, the front door of the cabin opened, and a boy who was not family, stood in the doorway. Surprised, Az Rak straightened, hitting his head on the underside of the wagon.  
The boy ran along the garden path to the gate in the white picket fence surrounding the home. Instead of opening it, he climbed over it and stood for a moment in the laneway, calling out to the home’s occupants.  
Az Rak strained to listen, but the boy was too far away. Crouching low again, he peered along the weapon at the house and the boy. But, surely, the boy could not have seen him, he convinced himself; he was too well hidden, he had chosen the perfect strike-point. And yet.   
He chided himself for his moment’s indecision. But it was only for a moment, and confident that the boy had not warned the occupants, he powered down his weapon and settled down to wait, to stalk. Besides, it was better this way—the boy’s death would only sully this trophy for master. The targets, the family, were still inside, that’s what really matters. And, waiting a little longer to ensure the boy did not return will allow enough time to check the aftermath and sanitize the area. Enough time to erase all trace of master’s enemies and leave only dust and ashes. After eleven years of searching, what were a few minutes more?   
He watched the boy run along the tree fringed twisty laneway, turn a corner and disappear. For a while, he continued to stare at the empty laneway as two words kept going round and round in his brain, ‘Nolferrum Edict’ and he did not understand why they made him pause.


	2. Gone

Upstairs in the house, eleven-year-old Mike Stout had heard the front door open and his mother call out, ‘they’re grounded Charlie. Come back tomorrow after they’ve learned to behave.’  
Charlie’s “Okay Mrs. Stout,” was followed by the slam of the front door and the sound of his footsteps hurrying along the garden path to the gate with its very hard to open bolt. “See you guys tomorrow,” he called.  
Seething, Mike sat on the edge of his bed and glared across the room at Noel, his brother. “It’s all your fault,” he said, breaking the room’s icy silence. “You’ll be sorry”.  
Noel smirked. “Your stuff’s still down by the pond.”  
Mike stiffened and started to rise, “You left my…” he said, his voice rising with him. Then, half-standing, half-sitting, he stopped as he thought about Mom downstairs. “Huh...” he sighed and folding his arms tightly, sat down heavily on his bed again  
“Someone could steal it,” Noel goaded.  
Mike thought about his stuff, his fishing pole and slingshot. Noel was right. Someone, anyone, could take it. Typical Noel, he felt like punching him and thought about Mom again. He glared at Noel, “I know what you’re trying to do,” he said, resisting the temptation to punch him.  
“Who… me?” Noel asked, pointing at himself with an air of innocence.  
“Yeah, you!” Mike replied, pointing an accusing finger. “You’re just trying to get me into more trouble with Mom,” he said, and clenching his teeth, lay down and turned his back to the room and Noel.  
As he lay staring at the wall, he heard the clinking of dishes filter up from the kitchen below. Then a thought came to him and his spirits lifted. Mom would be another while at the sink. Maybe even long enough to slip out, make it to the pond, grab my stuff and get back. Ten minutes tops, he convinced himself.  
He rolled out of bed and sat on the edge, looking at Noel with a determined grin.  
Noel narrowed his eyes and looked questioningly back at him.  
Satisfied, Mike got to his feet. Ignoring Noel, he made his way to the window and pressing his forehead against the glass, rolled his head from side to side as he scanned the backyard.  
The coast was clear. He glanced back at Noel, who had a ‘gotcha’ smile on his face, and all hesitation evaporated. Turning back to the window, he flicked the latch, eased the window up and stuck his head out.  
Halfway between the back door and the safety of the high grass and undergrowth in the surrounding forest, sat a stack of firewood, shrouded in ivy. I should be able to make it to the wood, he thought, glancing from the firewood to the back door.  
Mind made up, he turned to look at Noel and gave him a defiant glare. “You’d better not have lost my stuff,” he said, putting a leg through the open window.  
“Hey, you’re not thinking about doing anything stupid?” said Noel.  
Mike let out an audible breath and looked over his shoulder. “You’ll see,” he said, hoisting himself up to straddle the window  
“Mom’s going to ground you for a week. And don’t think I’m going to cover for you again,” said Noel, a smug look plastered across his face.  
Mike’s eyes narrowed. But this was not the time to argue. He put his other leg out and sat on the windowsill, then turned and lay on his belly, his legs dangling. “Fine, just don’t be a snitch,” he said.  
“I’m not a snitch,” said Noel indignantly.  
But Mike didn’t hear him, he was already lowering himself down the outside, dropping to the ground with a soft thump.  
Furtively, he made his way to the stack of firewood and peering around it, looked in through the open kitchen door. Mom was leaning over the sink with her back to him. He turned, stooped low, and using the stack for cover, made his way to the high grass beyond the white fence.  
Stopping for a moment, he glance up at the bedroom window. Noel was pointing a finger mockingly at him, just before turning away, his chin jutting out at a stubborn angle.  
Frustrated, Mike clenched his fists and made a wide circle stealthily around the house to a bend in the path leading to the pond. He stopped and raised his head to look back beyond the old wagon in front of his home. No sign of Mom.   
All was quiet; no breeze stirred as the summer of 1920 drew to a close.  
He ran along the familiar path to a grassy clearing, deep in the forest, his shirt sticky with sweat. Bending over, he gripped his sides and took quick gulps of air. Then, wiping his forehead, he looked across the clearing at a rock jutting over a stream-fed pond, to where his stuff should be. But the rock was bare, his stuff was nowhere to be seen.  
“Noel…” he fumed, as he walked over the soft ground, his anger growing with every step. As he drew near, he spotted his fishing line draped from the rock, meandering in the slow-moving current. Quickening his pace, he reached the line, hooked with his fingers and lifting it up, looked along it, to where one end disappeared into some high grass at the edge of the clearing. Letting the line slip easily over his fingers, he followed the line to where his fishing pole and slingshot lay, carelessly thrown about.  
Wait till I get home, he thought, and picking up the slingshot, tucked it into his back pocket, where he kept small stones as ammunition. Then retracing his steps, and reeling in the line as he went, he reached the edge of the rock, he stood and continued to reel the in line and felt it snag on some weeds. Pulling and whipping back and forth, he struggled to free the line, his fishing pole bent almost double.   
Then it straightened and the line floated on the surface—all of it, the hook was gone.  
“That does it. When I get home…” he paused as he thought of Noel waiting for him in their bedroom. He knew Noel would never snitch, but just the same he’ll be wondering and sweating until I get back, he mused.  
He laid down his fishing pole on the rock with a grin. “Hah...I’ll show you, I’ll stay as long as I like,” he said to the air. And shucking off his shoes, he stripped down to his shorts and took a flying leap off the rock.  
The water felt icy and made him breathless. He surfaced quickly and gasped in short sharp breaths until his breathing slowed and he was able to relax. And still smiling, he thought of Noel stuck in the bedroom and he rolled onto his back, floating lazily in the easy current, soothing his anger.  
After a few minutes, he thought about Mom. Better get back. He swam to the rock, clambered up and picked up his shirt, using it as a towel to dry off some, before twisting it to wring some of the water out and pull it over his head.   
Struggling to get his arms through the shirt’s damp sleeves, a strange feeling made him shiver. Yet it was not from the cold water, it was like nothing he ever felt before. Scarcely able to breathe, the sensation squirmed its way up his spine, chilling him all over with an imminent dread.  
He tensed, immobile, his face framed by his shirt, his arms stuck in the air at awkward angles. Only his eyes moved, side to side, back and forth. But nothing seemed out of place. Unfreezing, he turned about slowly, scanning the clearing. No leaves stirred on the trees; even the forest held its breath.  
The feeling inside intensified and dispelled all fear. Mom…Noel…Captain Jack…I must get home. Feverishly, he wriggled his arms through the shirt sleeves, and pulled it partway down, leaving it bunched about his midriff, and reached for his overalls. Shooting his legs through it, he pulled them on, hitching up one of the straps across his shoulder, all the while checking the surrounding forest. He looked for his shoes and socks. There’s no time, and leaving them where they lay, he darted across the soft grass to the stone littered path leading home, barely slowing as the stones tore at his feet, making them bleed.  
He raced on, a stitch in his side growing ever more painful. The bend in the path came into view. Almost there.  
The pain in his side intensified, the sick feeling more nauseous. Faster, he urged himself.  
Ten more strides…  
Five...  
Three...  
BOOM!  
A blast, like a brick wall, punched him hard in the chest, knocking the air out of his lungs and throwing him back along the trail.  
He lay stunned, unable to breathe.   
As if he was going deeper into a tunnel, his angle of vision receded to a small circle of light. He couldn’t breathe.   
Then his chest heaved and air gushed into his screaming lungs, “Huuuugh…” he gasped and looked around.   
Dazed, he watched trees swaying wildly all around, their branches snapping and falling down. Numb and confused, the watched them fall, some on top of him, crowding out the daylight.  
After a few minutes or seconds—he wasn’t sure which—his senses filtered through his dazed state, the numbness faded, replaced by a buzzing in his head and the weight of something heavy on his chest, pinning him down.   
He moved his head. A splinter of light, a crack in the shroud of foliage, split the darkness. Frantically, he moved his head from side to side and broke through the shroud. Daylight flashed in his eyes, blinding him momentarily. He squinted against the glare and looked around.  
Overhead, the tops of the trees and most of their branches had been snapped off.   
Slowly the truth dawned; he was buried under a mass of broken tree branches. He wriggled to break free and felt a sharp pain sear along his left arm. He opened his mouth to scream. But a stronger impulse, an instinct, took over. I must lie still. He did not know why, but he mustn’t call out.  
Clenching his teeth, he breathed quickly, the sound of air hissing between his teeth, his chest rising and falling rapidly as a flush of adrenalin coursed through his veins.  
He thought of Mom, Noel and Captain Jack again. I need to get out of here. He swallowed hard and willed himself to relax; to lie still, to wait for the pain to ease; for the world to stop hurtling sideways.  
Slowly, his heaving chest calmed a little and the sound of his hissing breath quietened. He looked about and spotted a tree root sticking out of the ground nearby. He reached for it. More Pain shot along his arm, his breathing became fast and shallow again, its urgent sound coursing ever louder between his teeth once more.   
Forcing himself to lie still again, he felt tears trickle on his temple and sweat pool in his eyes, stinging them.   
Gradually the pain in his arm eased and his sight dimmed.  
And in that dim state, between consciousness and oblivion, he saw a specter like figure drawing nearer, pulling away some of the debris, reaching for him.  
“Who...” he slurred.  
His voice trailed off and he was in a tunnel once more, his vision and light receding as blackness closed in and his world was gone.


	3. Charlie's

Light blazed, Mike blinked and peered through his almost closed eyes, dimming the light; a strange shape drifted in and out of focus as a muffled sound became a voice. It grew stronger, more persistent.  
“Mike…” it insisted.  
“Mike,” it called again, triggering a faint recognition.  
“Wha—” he asked, becoming more alert. He looked up, to see Charlie’s mother. “Mrs...Peyton?” he began, and lifted his head to look around.  
“Ugh…” he said, and winced as a headache, like a jolt of lightning, blasted a hole through the top of his skull.  
“Take it easy, son,” someone said, pressing a hand gently on his shoulder. He looked along the arm at George, Charlie’s pa.  
“Mike, pet. Don’t worry…” added Mrs. Peyton, tears welling in her eyes. “…everything’s going to be all right,” she continued, wringing her hand in her apron. Quickly, she turned away quickly, bringing the apron to her face, dabbing her eyes.  
Mike fought his throbbing headache and squeezing his eyes against a fresh eruption of pain, propped himself onto his elbows. “What’s going on? Where….where’s Mom… Noel?” he asked, squinting about the room.  
He recognized it. He was in Charlie’s house, in Mr. and Mrs. Peyton’s bedroom. “Why…am I here?”  
Nobody answered.  
A wave of nausea reached the back of Mike’s throat and he fought to stop from throwing up.  
The nausea passed. He thought about his cat. “Captain Jack, is he okay?” he asked. But as he spoke, he heard a commotion outside the two-room house.  
“More neighbors...” said Mrs. Peyton. She looked at Mike. “You just lie still for now. I’ll explain everything when I get back.” She looked at Charlie. “You stay here and make sure he doesn’t pull off that bandage,” she said, pointing at Mike’s shoulder.  
“Okay, Ma,” replied Charlie, nodding.  
“C’mon, George,” she said to Mr. Peyton, leading him through the door.  
Mike watched as they walked through the only other room in the house and out the front door, to the neighbors gathered outside. He looked at Charlie, “What’s going on?” he said. He pointed to the group, huddled around Mr. and Mrs. Peyton. “What are they doing here?”  
Charlie shifted awkwardly.  
“How… did I get here?”  
Charlie sidled along the bed and bent over him. “Ma will kill me,” he said in a low voice. He glanced quickly through the front door and bent closer to Mike, “I’m not supposed to say a word, but you’ve been out for nearly six hours,” he whispered.  
“Six hours?” blurted Mike, jerking his head in surprise, making it ache even more.  
“Shh. . .” urged Charlie, fanning the air with his hands.  
“Six hours?” repeated Mike in a hushed tone.  
“What happened?” said Charlie.  
“What?” Mike replied, searching Charlie’s eyes.  
“I found you lying outside our front door, and no one knows how you got there.” said Charlie.  
Mike stared blankly back at him.  
“Do you remember anything?” continued Charlie.  
“Not much. Noel left my stuff down by the pond, so after you left, I snuck down to get it. But then— I got this bad feeling—like something was going to happen and bolted home as fast as I could.”  
“And?” said Charlie.  
“I never made it, because just as I got to the bend in the path, a blast came out of nowhere and knocked me flat. The next thing I knew, the trees were swaying back and forth, and branches were falling on top of me. I couldn’t move.”  
“So how did you get here?”  
“Someone must have brought me.”  
“Who?” asked Charlie.  
“Dunno—-I think it must have been—just before I passed out, I think I saw someone trying to help me.”  
“Who?”  
“I couldn’t see very clearly, my eyes were blurry—no one knows how I got here?”  
Charlie shrugged.  
“Weird,” said Mike.  
“Yeah, and it gets even weirder,” said Charlie, pausing. “Who’s Varax-Ra?”  
“Who?”  
“Varax-Ra. You kept going on and on about him. You said he had to be stopped or he would destroy the world.” Charlie paused and screwed up his face. “You said...you had to stop him.”  
“Huh?”  
“Told you it gets weirder.”  
“Does—” Mike felt another shard of pain pierce his skull, “—Mom, Noel know I’m here?” he asked, narrowing his eyes against the fresh eruption of pain.  
Charlie winced, the blood draining from his face.  
Despite the pain, Mike sat up suddenly. “They’re all right, aren’t they?”  
Charlie turned and glanced outside.  
“Charlie?”  
But Charlie did not answer, “I—I’ll get mom,” he said turning towards the door.  
Mike gripped the back of Charlie’s denim overalls. “Where are they?”  
Charlie inclined his head and slowly turned around, a pained expression on his face. His mouth moved, but no words came out at first. Then he sighed and found his voice. “Mike...you’re...you’re my friend, and I reckon friends oughtn’t to keep secrets…but your Mom...Noel...they must have been in the house” he said, his chin quivering. “Now it’s gone and…”  
Mike stiffened.  
“I’m sorry Mike…they’re gone.”  
“Gone?” said Mike. The word seemed so final, it tolled in his brain. And yet it seemed impossible, “they can’t be—they were okay when I left them, just before I ran ho…”  
“I’m sorry, Mike; I shouldn’t have told you,” said Charlie and he turned and ran out of the room to the group outside.  
Overwhelmed, barely noticing he was alone, Mike rolled to one side and brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Not even the sound of Mrs. Peyton hurried footfalls registered as she came hurrying back. “Oh, Mike...Mike,” she said, gathering him in her arms.  
Mike clung to her, and sobbed, deep into her shoulder. Gently, she stroked the back of his head and rocked him back and forth, “Ssh...I’m here. I’m here,” she said, her voice a whisper.


	4. ALONE

ALONE  
One week later, Mike watched Charlie scooping chicken seed into an old biscuit tin when Mrs. Peyton emerged from the back door. “How are you doing, Mike?” she said,” …still not sleeping much?” Mike nodded. “I know it’s hard, but I don’t think your mom would like to see you looking so down like this. Do you?” Mike shook his head. “Could you do something for me?” Mike looked up. “Would you get some bedding for Bud? I think it will do you good,” said Mrs. Peyton. Slowly Mike made his way to the stable, slid back the retaining bar on the weathered wooden doors and parted them. A strip of evening sunlight split the barn’s gloomy interior. Inside, the strip of sunlight, split a mule cart, the tips of its shafts resting on the brown dirt. He pulled the doors hard and flung them wide, bathing the cart and the barn in golden sunlight. Bud, the family mule, craned his neck over his stall door and looked at him with doleful eyes. Mike went over and patted the mule’s neck. “Want some fresh bedding, Bud?” he said. He turned and stepped over the shafts of the mule cart, to a pile of straw on the opposite side of the barn Scooping up an armful, he stepped back over the mule cart’s shafts. “Back, Bud,” he said, opening the stall door. “Here you go,” he continued, scattering the straw about. When he’d finished, he stepped out of the stall and closed the door. Bud craned his neck over the door again and Mike stroked his muzzle. “It might not be fancy, but at least you have your own bed,” he said as thoughts of the memorial service, police inquiries and being “placed out” to other parts of the country on adoption trains crowded his mind. I’m too old. No one’s adopts eleven year olds. He heard Charlie calling the chickens in the yard outside and walked out to see him laying a seed trail up the chicken-coop ramp to lure the chickens’ home. “Neat trick,” said Mike. “Best to keep them in one place, or I’ll be hunting for eggs all over the place in the morning,” replied Charlie. “You look like the Pied Piper,” said Mike as the chickens jostled about, pecking the seed and following the trail Charlie laid, up the ramp and through the coop hatch. When the last one strutted in, hurried along by Charlie, he raised the ramp –an old advertising sign, MRS. WILSON’S PATENTED HEROIN COUGH MEDICINE, and pegged it closed against the hatch opening, to keep the chickens inside. “Mom and Dad were down at the police station again,” said Charlie. “Yeah.” “They said, the sergeant said he had to contact the Society of Orphans,” said Charlie. Mike stiffened. “Pa asked if you could stay here, but the sergeant said it would raise too many questions.” “How come?” said Mike. Charlie paused, and looked at him. “Because I’m supposed to be at boarding school with all the other Tuscarora kids, but the government don’t know about me.” “Oh, I never knew,” said Mike. “I have to lie low, but you’d be put on the adoption trains for sure—unless someone here took you in. Ain’t you got any kinfolk? Didn’t your ma ever say?” Memories of his old home flashed before Mike and his mouth felt dry. He shook his head. “Nope,” he croaked. As they walked towards the house. Mike nudged Charlie’s arm. “What if I got a job?” They stopped and looked at each other. “Where?” said Charlie. “Maybe I could help your pa on his coal rounds.” “Maybe,” said Charlie. “I’ll ask him after he goes to get his cough medicine.” “I could go and get it for him,” said Mike. “He doesn’t want anyone to know he takes it,” said Charlie, conspiratorially. “But Ma knows. Sometimes she wants me to follow him—just to make sure he’s okay.” Charlie opened the back door of the house, and Mike’s stomach rumbled as the aroma of Mrs. Peyton’s cooking wafted out. “I sure am hungry,” said Mike. Charlie shrugged and glanced at him. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, leading Mike inside. “Dinner won’t be long, boys,” said Mrs. Peyton. “George went to get some things. He’ll be back soon.” Charlie looked knowingly at Mike. “Want me to follow him?” he said. “It’s okay Charlie, I think he’ll be fine,” said Mrs. Peyton. Half an hour later, they heard George fumbling with the lock on the front door. Then it swung wide, and Charlie’s Pa leaned against the doorpost, his large frame filling the opening. He looked gaunt. Mrs. Peyton rushed to his side and put a gentle arm around him. “You okay?” she asked, ushering him to the table, “You’ll feel better after you get some food into you,” she said as he slumped onto a chair. Mrs. Peyton hurried to the stove, picked up two dinner plates arranged like a clamshell, and returned. Carefully she lifted off the top plate, releasing a cloud of steam that billowed to the ceiling. Charlie’s father sniffed the air. “Smells great, Josie,” he said, putting an arm around her waist. She looked at Charlie and Mike, blushing and patting her hair, “The boys are watching,” she said, and easing Mr. Peyton’s arm from around her waist, she planted a kiss on his forehead. Grinning, George winked at Mike and Charlie, and lifted a forkful of food to his mouth. “I saw that wink, George Peyton,” said Mrs. Peyton, pointing an accusatory finger playfully at him. Mike and Charlie glanced at each other and smiled. Eagerly, they tucked into their food and when they were finished eating, Mike tapped Charlie under the table and gestured toward Mr. Peyton. Charlie looked at Mike questioningly, “Oh…” he mouthed, and turned to his father. “Pa?” he said. Slumped in his chair, Mr. Peyton jerked his head and looked around. “Huh?” he said, sitting upright and smacking his lips. “What’s up?” “I was kind of wondering...” he gestured in Mike’s direction, “…well, me and Mike were wondering if he could come work with us—you know, delivering coal?” George looked from Charlie to Mike. Mike felt Charlie nudge him under the table with his foot. Mike looked at Charlie, who was staring back pointedly at him, gesturing with his eyes for Mike to say something. Mike perked up, “Yes that’s right Mr. Peyton, I...I could look after Bud or maybe help load coal,” he said. “Yeah, Pa and he could shovel coal into the basements, or you could get him a job at the coal depot. You said the manager is always looking for people to break up the big coal lumps.” Mike nodded. “Well, Pa?” said Charlie. George looked at Mrs. Peyton who was grimacing, “I’m not sure, Mike,” she said. “Your mother wanted you to finish school. We often talked about it. She said it was very important to her—she even schooled Charlie for us when she found we didn’t want him to go to boarding school.” Mike looked quizzically at Charlie. “Just like I told you, me being Tuscarora and all,” said Charlie. “Charlie!” his mother said. “It’s okay, Ma. Mike knows I’m Tuscarora. Right, Mike?” Mike nodded. “See, Ma?” Mr. Peyton covered his mouth, but Mike saw the smile in his eyes. Mrs. Peyton glared at him. “And what are you smiling about?” “Nothing,” Charlie’s Pa said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t say a word. But now that you asked…” he said jokingly, “…it will only be for a little while and it will give Mike some time to sort things out.” “I don’t know. . .” she said. “Just let him try it,” said George. Then after what Mike thought was a long time, she nodded. “Well, all right so—maybe for just a little while...and I mean a short while, George Peyton. Just till school opens, mind.” “Thank you, Mrs. Peyton. You too, Mr. Peyton. You won’t regret it. I’ll work hard, I promise,” said Mike. Mrs. Peyton reached to straighten an errant hair on Mike’s head. It reminded him of when his Mom did the same. I’m gonna work hard, Mom. I’ll make you proud of me, he thought. I’ll even finish school...somehow.


	5. Coaldust

COAL DUST  
Next morning, Mike followed Charlie to the stable to begin his first day’s work. Charlie swung the doors wide and they walked inside. Charlie pointed to cart shafts resting on the floor, “Okay Mike, just pick up the shafts and hold them level while I get Bud and harness him up,” he said. “Okay,” said Mike and he lifted the tips of the shafts up, levelling the cart. Charlie removed the harness from its rail and draped it over Bud, its shaft loops hanging loosely on each side of the mule. He led Bud to the front of the cart, lining him up between the cart-shafts. “Back, Bud,” he said, urging the mule backwards. Bud stamped his hooves and backed up. Mike slipped the loop on his side over the shaft and Charlie reached for the other loop with his free hand and slipped it over the other shaft, all the while urging Bud to back up. “Whoa,” said Charlie when Bud was in position. Mike reached under Bud to buckle Bud’s bellyband and cinched it tight. Just then, George entered the stable, and ran his hand along Bud’s back, “All harnessed I see?” he said, checking the harness. “Good job, boys,” he said, clambering up onto the wagon. He looked at Mike, “Ready for your first day?” “Yes, sir,” said Mike, anxious to get started. Mike and Charlie went to opposite sides of the cart and climbed up to sit on either side of Charlie’s Pa. “Get up there, Bud,” said George, sending a wave rippling along the leather reins. They rolled onto the main road and turned toward Lewiston, the morning sun at their backs, Bud trotting happily ahead. Twenty minutes later, the muffled sound of Bud’s hooves hitting the ground became sharper as the packed clay of Ridge Road gave way to the red bricked pavement of Center Street. Bud did not seem to mind. With his harness jangling, he trotted on, the rise and fall of his gait making the cart shaft and the three riders jolt up and down, in time with the clip-clop of his hooves. Mike held onto the side of his seat and watched familiar buildings go by. Somehow they all looked so different, now that so much had changed, for him. “The tram lines are on your side, Mike. Make sure we don’t get the wheels stuck in them,” said George. “Okay, Mr. Peyton,” said Mike, and he looked over the side as they crossed over the shining steel lines running down the middle of the street. Ahead, by the coal depot, a cloud of smoke billowed up from a train passing through the tunnel under the street as coal trucks waited their turn on the roadside to be loaded. Mr. Peyton slowed Bud to a walk. “Come round,” he said, maneuvering Bud skillfully behind the last truck. “Whoa,” he said, bringing him to a halt. As they waited, every few minutes, Mike heard a loud whooshing sound from deep inside the depot, and moments later, the line of trucks moved forward. At last, the truck ahead rolled into the shed and stopped beneath the spout of a giant metal funnel. A storeman pulled a lever on the side of it and a stream of coal whooshed from the funnel, to a chute, and onto the bed of the truck As quickly as it started, the flow stopped, the clamor of coal gave way to a ringing in Mike’s ears. The loaded truck rolled forward, exiting through the opposite gate. Then it was their turn. “Get up there, Bud,” said George, sending another ripple along the reins, smacking it gently off Bud’s hide. Bud shuddered but did not move. George flapped the reins again and Bud craned his head and looked back at him. “Smart mule,’ said George. “Here, Charlie,” he said, handing him the reins. He climbed down from the cart and removed his scarf from around his neck. Then walking forward, he stood in front of Bud and held him by the halter and rubbed his forehead, “Don’t like the dust, do you boy? Me neither,” he said, and wrapped the scarf over Bud’s blinkered eyes, blindfolding him. George gripped the halter, “Walk on,” he said, leading the mule by the head, deeper into the coal store. As they went, Mike felt his eyes water from the dusty interior. “Whoa, boy,” said George, positioning the cart under the coat chute. Mike, his eyes barely open against the dust, squinted at the funnel. Hanging from it he spotted a small sledgehammer, “What’s that for?” he said to Charlie. Charlie opened his mouth to speak. WHOOSH. And Charlie’s voice was drowned in the screech of coal as the storeman pulled on the lever. Quickly, Mike pressed his hands over his ears. Then, just as suddenly as it started, the noise stopped. Mike took his hands from his ears and peered around. A large lump of coal poked from the mouth of the funnel, choking it and stemming the flow of coal. “Darn, another coal boulder,” said the storeman, climbing onto the wagon. He reached for the sledgehammer. “I’ll soon sort this out,” he said, tapping the hammer twice on the lump to steady his aim. Then, drawing back, he swung the hammer at the offending coal. Smack! The hammer smashed against the lump, shattering it. The noisy flow of coal resumed, burying the storeman’s boots. With practiced ease he lifted them clear, and catching the side of the cart, vaulted over it to the ground. Almost as quickly as it started, the screech of coal subsided. Mike looked around to see the last pebble of coal bounce down the chute and onto the wagon. “Walk on, Bud,” said George and they rolled through the dusty shed toward the exit and the bright sunshine beyond. Outside, he removed the blindfold, “There you go, feller,” he said and walked back before climbing to his seat. “On,” he said, flapping the reins along Bud’s flanks again, raising a puff of coal dust sparklingly in the bright morning sunshine. They moved out of the coal yard and stopped fifteen minutes later outside a neatly kept house. “Okay, first stop,” said George dropping onto the ground. He looked up at them, “Time to start work boys, down you come.” Mike and Charlie climbed down and stood watching as George held Bud by the head and lined him up with the house’s driveway. “Back, Bud,” said George, guiding the back of the cart toward a coal hatch in the basement wall. “Whoa, Bud,” he said, when the back of the cart was positioned by the hatch. Moments later, the harness undone, George held the cart shafts level, clear of the loops, “Okay, Charlie, walk Bud out. Mike you get the shovels” he said. When Bud was clear, George squatted low so his shoulders were level with the shafts. “Stand back, boys,” he said, and like a weight lifter taking on a great weight, stood up and pressed his arms high over his head, tipping the cart like a giant-size wheelbarrow and sending coal sliding to the ground by the basement hatch, engulfing himself in a cloud of dust. Almost immediately, Mike heard George hacking and coughing. He looked at Charlie, who was wincing, his cheeks puffed, holding his breath, waiting for his Pa to breathe normally again. After a few moments, George gestured Charlie towards the front door of the house, “See if they want the coal…shoveled into the basement…and don’t forget the fifty cents,” he croaked between fits of coughing. “Puh…” uttered Charlie, releasing his pent up breath and un-puffing his cheeks. “Sure Pa,” he said, heading to the front of the house. When he knocked on the door, a woman answered. “Yes. Oh, hello, Charlie,” she said. “Pa wants to know if you want the coal in the basement for fifty cents, Miss.” “Yes, please,” the woman said, holding her hand out and placing some coins into Charlie’s outstretched hand. “Keep the change,” she said with a smile. Charlie looked down at the money. “Sixty cents. Thanks, Miss,” he said smilingly as she the eased door closed. He looked at Mike and grinned, “She always tips,” he said, taking one of the shovels from Mike, “Okay, time for your first job.” They set to work shoveling the coal through the basement hatch, Mike matching Charlie’s well-practiced rhythm with alternating strokes of shoveling and slinging coal through the hatch. The pace became relentless. Whew, this is hard, thought Mike. He straightened and looked at Charlie bent over his task and whose pace did not slow. Charlie looked up, “Hey, no slacking,” he said, laughingly. George joined in and wheezed out a laugh that quickly became another coughing fit. Charlie straightened, “You okay, Pa?” he said, anxiously. George waved a hand dismissively, “…yeah…I’ll be okay. Just give me a minute to catch my breath.” By midday, after delivering more coal than he cared to think about, Mike was exhausted and hungry. So when George stopped for lunch by a horse trough on Center Street, Mike reached eagerly for his lunch pack and can of milk, while Bud stuck his head in the trough. George took Bud’s nose bag from under the driver’s seat and poured some horse feed into it. “Here, Bud,” he said, shaking the bag with a rustling sound. Bud jerked his head from the trough, water still dripping from his chin, and eagerly thrust his nose into the bag as Mike and Charlie bit into their sandwiches. “Finish your lunch, boys, while I go to the store,” said George, hitching the nose-bag handle over Bud’s ears. Mike, about to take a second bite of his sandwich, lowered his hands and looked up. “We’ll come with—” “—it’s okay, Pa. We’ll wait here,” interrupted Charlie, nudging Mike surreptitiously with his elbow. When George was out of earshot, Mike turned to Charlie. “How come you wanted me to be quiet?” “He’s getting cough medicine. Ma will go mental if she finds out he gets more than one bottle a day.” “Oh,” said Mike. “Pa says I can’t go telling what I don’t know. But he don’t know that Ma already knows.” Mike looked past Charlie and in the widening distance, saw George hurrying down the street to the drugstore. “Sometimes he gets really bad,” said Charlie. Mike stared at him. “He doesn’t hit me or Ma or anything, but when he takes too much or the cravings get real bad, he ain’t good to be around,” said Charlie. “We just want to make sure he’s okay and doesn’t do anything crazy, is all.” Mike saw the pain in Charlie’s eyes. “How come he don’t stop?” “Says he tries. First he was taking it to ease his pain; then he got hooked on it.” “What pain?” said Mike. “He got gassed in the war, burned up his insides and it makes it hard for him to breathe. I hate it when he gets bad, and—and no one can help him. I wish he didn’t have to deliver coal, because the dust always makes him worse,” said Charlie. “Yeah, I noticed,’ said Mike. “Ma don’t say much about his drinking the cough medicine anymore, because it always causes a row.” Charlie looked down Center Street, towards the drug store. “She even told him to quit delivering coal, but Pa says we need the money. ‘Got to eat,’ he says.” Mike looked at his sandwich for a long time without eating. “Best eat that,” said Charlie, gesturing at the sandwich, “there ain’t much else.” “Yeah,” said Mike, smiling weakly. He felt like a freeloader, an intruder, helpless. Together they sat side by side quietly eating their lunches until George returned, a little unsteady on his feet. “Ready for some more work?” said George, removing Bud’s nose bag. Soon the day became routine, so when they were loading yet more coal at the depot and when another bolder got stuck in the chute, nobody batted an eyelid. Not even when the storeman climbed onto their cart and hit it with the sledgehammer to dislodge it. That is, until Mike was hit with a shard of coal. “Ouch!” he said, rubbing his cheek. “That smarts.” “Sorry, kid, best keep your head down,” the storeman said, taking another swing at the lump, shattering it and sending it crashing onto their cart. Mike rubbed his face, to ease the stinging, “That was a big chunk of coal, mister,” he said. “Sure was, kid.” said the depot manager who had emerged from the small hut that served as an office. George gestured to a heavy metal table with a grille for a top. “Say, you wouldn’t be looking for someone to break up the big lumps on the grader, would you? Mike here’s looking for work.” “Maybe...” The manager looked at Mike. “Looks a bit scrawny, so it won’t pay much.” “How about me, Pa?” said Charlie. The manager looked at Charlie, sizing him up. “Tell you what. Seeing as how the usual boy’s sick again and I’m a bit backed up, I’ll do you a favor. I’ll take them both on.” “Well, we sure could use the money,” said George. He looked up at Charlie sitting alongside Mike on the wagon, “Just don’t tell your ma.” Mike and Charlie climbed up and stood on the grader, a long metal grille with openings just large enough to let fist-size lumps through. “What do we do now, mister?” said Mike. The manager pointed to sledgehammers lying on the grille. “Start smashing,” he replied, grinning. Mike and Charlie bent down and took a hammer each. It’s heavy, thought Mike. Charlie rolled a boulder onto the table and raising his hammer above his head, brought it crushingly down onto the coal, shattering it and sending fist-sized lumps in a shower of dust and pebbles to the floor below. “See Mike, easy,” said Charlie. They set to work, and boulder by boulder, blow by blow, they sent a rain of coal cascading down through the grille. After a while Mike felt a dryness in his throat. He straightened and looked around. Through the haze, he spotted the storeman nearby, “Hey, mister, got any water to drink here?” he said. “Yeah, over there, kid,” the storeman replied, pointing to a water pail on a low table, a ladle handle poking from under its lid. “Just don’t go there too often or the manager will moan, and don’t forget to put the lid back,” he said. “I need a drink too,” said Charlie, dropping to the floor. Mike lifted the lid and brought the ladle to his mouth. “Aahh…” he said, handing the ladle to Charlie. Two ladles of water later, Mike noticed a grin spreading across Charlie’s dust-covered face. “What?” he said. “Bet I can bust up more than you,” said Charlie. “You’re on,” said Mike. They climbed onto the grader and stood, like gladiators, hammers in hand, with large coal boulders at their feet, facing each other. “Ready?” said Charlie. “On three,” said Mike. “One…” “Two…” “Three...” They brought the hammers down. Soon a flurry of hammer blows pulverized the large lumps, sending dust and coal shards flying it all directions. Within a few minutes, the depot was thicker than usual with coal dust. Coughing and hacking, and spurred on by the competition, they kept up their coal smashing frenzy, adding to their tally and counting out loud with each busted lump. “Take it easy, boys! It’s like a dust storm in here,” shouted the storeman, coughing. Surprised, Mike and Charlie stopped and grinned at each other. “How many you busted?” said Charlie. “One hundred and ten.” “Me too,” said Charlie, and he swung his hammer at another chunk, sending its shattered remains onto the pile under the table. “One eleven, I win.” Later that evening, when they arrived home, Mrs. Peyton hardly recognized Mike from Charlie. “Merciful hour, Charlie, did you roll in the dust or what,” she said, pointing at Mike. “I’m Mike, Mrs. Peyton.” “Well, you two look a sight. It’s no wonder I got you mixed up. I’ll heat some water while you wash up before dinner.” As they waited for the water to warm up, Mike looked around Charlie’s home, at the make do interior and sparse furnishings. They don’t really have much for themselves, he though, as if he was seeing it for the first time. He thought about the food they gave him and Mr. Peyton delivering coal and his rasping cough, of Charlie going hungrier. This isn’t right. Mom wouldn’t want me to freeload. I have to pay my own way, but where can I get a better job?


	6. Captain Jack

Days turned to weeks, Mike and Charlie continued to pound coal, but Mike felt a little happier, At least I’m bringing in some money, he thought.  
So one Sunday, a break from work, when Mrs. Peyton asked him and Charlie to clean out Bud’s stall, Mike did not hesitate.   
“Aw, Ma” said Charlie, rising to his feet and following Mike outside and soon they were cutting and stacking firewood, and cleaning up around the back yard.  
Later, Charlie turned to Mike, “We still got to do Bud’s stall as well.”  
“There sure is a lot of work to be done around here,” said Mike, turning wearily to the stable, followed by Charlie.  
When they cleaned the stall and were about to scatter armfuls of straw on the floor, Charlie nudged Mike, “Someone’s coming,” he said, gesturing through the open stable door.   
Mike peered over his armful of straw, and saw a small truck slow on the road by the house and come to a halt. The driver’s door opened and a woman got out.  
“Know her?” said Mike.   
“Nope, never saw her before. I was hoping you did,” replied Charlie.  
Mike shook his straw on the ground, all the while craning his neck to look in the woman’s direction.   
The woman walked to the front of the house and disappeared from view. “Do you suppose she’s from the adoption society?” said Mike   
Charlie looked at him questioningly. Letting his armful of straw fall to the ground, he ran to the house, followed by Mike. “Ma—there’s a woman heading this way,” he said. Mrs. Peyton stopped sweeping the floor and straightened. “She’s not coming for Mike, is she?” said Charlie, looking back at Mike who was standing in the doorway.  
Putting the broom aside, Mrs. Peyton wiped her hands on her apron and followed Charlie to the front door. Tentatively, Charlie opened it.  
Mike stood on his toes, trying to get a better look at the newcomer, her arm raised, about to knock.   
“Can I help you?” said Mrs. Peyton.  
Mike strained to listen over the sound of blood pulsing in his ears. He glanced at Charlie’s pa, who had just woken up, his arms still folded, sitting at the table.   
The conversation at the doorway stopped abruptly. Mrs. Peyton wheeled around and looked back at Mike. “Someone’s here to see you, Mike” she said, stepping aside as Charlie swung the door open fully.  
The woman was holding a bundle in her arms. “Hello, Mike,” she said.  
Mike stared anxiously at her.   
“It’s okay, Mike,” said Charlie, nodding encouragingly.  
Tentatively, Mike walked towards her, “Hello…” he said.  
The woman held out the bundle, offering it to him.  
A one-eyed cat popped its head out and looked at him. Mike’s heart skipped a beat. “Captain Jack,” he yelled, rushing to hold it. “You’re alive!”  
He held the cat and hugged it gently. The cat purred and nuzzled his head against Mike’s cheek. Mike closed his eyes and let a wave of relief wash over him, he hadn’t felt so happy in such a long while.   
He opened his eyes and smiled at the woman, “Thank you…” he said, his voice breaking. “Where…where did you find— how did you know he’s mine?” he said, wiping a tear from his eye.  
“Your mother told me how much Captain Jack means to you,” the woman said.  
Mrs. Peyton stood back and looked the woman up and down. “You knew Anne?” she said, moving between Mike and the lady.  
“Yes indeed. We have stayed in touch for a number of years now. I also knew Denis, her husband,” the woman replied.  
Mrs. Peyton, moved Mike out of view, “How do you know Mike’s mom and dad?” she said.  
“I met them in Russia. Denis was working on the Trans-Siberian Railway at the time. We’ve been friends ever since.”  
“How did you know Mike was here?” said Mrs. Peyton.  
“I live in the village, and since the tragedy, everyone’s been talking.”  
“Oh…” said Mrs. Peyton. “Sorry,” she said, stepping aside and moving out of Mike’s line of sight.  
“No need to apologize, it’s good to see Mike’s in good hands,” said the woman. She smiled and turning to Mike, held out her hand. “Hello, Mike, my name is Nolos Gweh.”   
Mike reached and shook her hand tentatively, “Hi…” he said.   
“Hi, I’m delighted to meet you, face to face, at last.”  
“Where are my manners?” said Mrs. Peyton. “Would you like to come in? I’m afraid we only have a cup of coffee to offer.”  
“Thank you. But a glass of water will do just fine,” said Nolos-Gweh, stepping through the door.  
Mrs. Peyton went to the water pitcher, filled a glass and offered it to Nolos-Gweh. “Thank you,” she said, taking the glass from Mrs. Peyton.  
As she drank, Mike watched, confused by the warmth he felt toward her.  
Nolos-Gweh lowered her glass, smiled and cupped her hands around it. “Could I have a word in private with both of you?” she said to Mr. and Mrs. Peyton.  
Mr. Peyton gestured toward the back door. Mr. and Mrs. Peyton led the way to the backyard, followed by Nolos-Gweh. Mike and Charlie stood by the back door and watched as the others continued to walk towards the stable.   
Halfway between the house and the stable, Nolos Gweh said something to Mr. and Mrs. Peyton. They stopped and turned to face her. Mrs. Peyton clamped a hand to her mouth. She looked at George and turning to the back door, looked at Mike and Charlie.  
Stirring uneasily, Mike watched as Nolos-Gweh took another drink of water and returned the glass to Mrs. Peyton. Then, turning to the house, she walked back through the back door, between Mike and Charlie, followed by Charlie’s parents.  
Mike stared after her, confused. He held Captain Jack a little closer.  
“What’s going on, Ma?” said Charlie.  
Mike turned as Mrs. Peyton and Mr. Peyton entered. “You’ll see,” said Mrs. Peyton. She was positively beaming. She turned to Mike. “Mike—” she said.  
“Yes, Mrs. Peyton?”  
“Well, Mike—well now—Miss Gweh here—” uttered Mrs. Peyton, seemingly lost for words.  
Nolos-Gweh looked knowingly at Mrs. Peyton, and pointed to herself. Mrs. Peyton gestured affirmatively and Nolos Gweh bent toward Mike. “What Mrs. Peyton would like to ask is, whether you like to come and stay with me?”  
A confusion of emotion gushed through Mike, he looked from Nolos-Gweh to Mrs. Peyton, who was nodding her head enthusiastically at him, and back again. He stared at Nolos-Gweh, speechless.  
“You don’t have to answer right away. You can stay here until you decide,” said Mr. Peyton.  
Mike nodded, “I think so…”  
“It means you don’t have to leave,” interjected Charlie.  
He looked from Charlie to Nolos-Gweh, “I mean yes, ma’am,” he said, coming to his senses. “I won’t be a burden, I’ll even get a job to pay my own way and—”  
Nolos-Gweh held up her hand, “—there’s no need, Mike,” she said, “I can take care of both of us. Indeed I would be more than honored to do so.”  
“In Lewiston? You said you lived in the village?” said Mike.  
“Yes, Mike. But there’s no rush, you don’t have to answer right away. Take your time and talk it over with Mr. and Mrs. Peyton first. Then when you’ve decided, you can let me know, okay?”  
“Yes, ma’am. I mean I’d love to. Thank you, ma’am,” said Mike.  
Nolos-Gweh smiled. “Good, I’ll leave you now, and when you’re ready, you can tell Mr. and Mrs. Peyton, they know how to contact me.” she said. Then turning around, she retraced her steps to her truck.  
Mike, Charlie, and his parents crowded around the doorway, waving and smiling. Nolos-Gweh stuck an arm out of the driver’s-side window and waved back as she drove off, her hand still waving as she disappeared around a bend.  
Throughout the rest of the day and into the night, a flood of questions raced through Mike, his mood swinging from giddy to concern. What about Charlie’s pa and his coal round, I just can’t just leave them they need the money, he thought. It was only one questions among many, so when he climbed the ladder to his mattress on the floor above Mrs. and Mr. Peyton’s bedroom, he found it impossible to sleep.  
He lay on his back, listening to Charlie’s breathing getting heavier. Too excited to sleep, he had to talk with someone. He nudged Charlie, “What do you think of Nolos-Gweh?” he said.  
Charlie stirred. “Huh?”  
“Nolos-Gweh—do you think she’s for real?”  
“Well...Ma and Pa thinks she’s okay, even though we only just met her. But, then again, what other choice have you got?”  
“Yeah, not much, I suppose,” said Mike. He stared into the inky blackness of the loft, “she seems okay…better than okay, she makes me feel good, it’s like I know her…know what I mean?”  
Charlie did not reply. “Charlie?” said Mike, as the sound of Charlie’s breathing became heavier again.   
Hours went by. I need a drink of water, he thought, and rolled off the mattress. He groped his way to the top of the ladder and swinging his leg over the edge, found the top rung and began to climb down.  
Partway down, he heard the hushed sound of talking from the bedroom of Charlie’s ma and pa, their voices ranging from a whisper to a low volume —and they were talking about him.  
He looked down and saw a faint glow coming from under their door as the conversation grew a little louder.   
“...but the police will be asking a load of questions and we could lose Charlie,” said Mr. Peyton.  
Mike felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.  
“Well, I told Mike he could stay, and I’m not going back on my word,” said Mrs. Peyton. “He’s been through enough already, his dad, Denis, gone barely two years and now this—I just can’t do it.”  
“I know it’s hard, Josie,” said Mr. Peyton. “But, the sergeant said we just can’t keep Mike. And if there’s no one around here to take him, the sergeant won’t have any choice, he’ll have to hand him over to the adoption society. And goodness knows where he’ll end up then.”  
“I know, but I want to be sure he’ll be taken good care of,” Mrs. Peyton replied.  
“Look, it’s up to Mike. And since you’re going to be doing the housework for Nolos-Gweh, you can keep an eye on him.”  
Mike scrunched up his face as Mr. Peyton spoke   
“I wonder if that’s why Nolos-Gweh gave me the job. You know...for me to keep an eye on Mike.”  
“Maybe,” said Mr. Peyton.  
“What do you mean? Maybe. It couldn’t have worked out better. Not to mention what she’s paying me. It’s enough for you to stop working. But she said to keep it quiet for now, until Mike makes up his mind.”  
“She seems to have his best interest at heart,” said Mr. Peyton.  
“It’s late. Let’s get some sleep,” said Mrs. Peyton.  
The glow of light from under the door dimmed and went out. On the ladder, Mike hung suspended, his thirst forgotten.  
He didn’t know how long he clung there, but when he tried to move, his legs felt numb. Then, as slowly and as quietly as he could, he climbed up and lay on the mattress once more.  
Charlie was fast asleep, his heavy breathing filling the darkness. Mike closed his eyes and felt Captain Jack curl up at his feet, his mind made up.


	7. Santuary

The next day, when Mike told Charlie’s Ma and Pa his decision, Mr. Peyton went to tell Nolos-Gweh.   
Forty-five minutes later, Charlie rushed to the window when he heard a truck stop outside. “Pa’s back with Nolos Gweh Ma,” he said.  
Mike clutched Captain Jack as Mrs. Peyton opened the door and Nolos-Gweh, followed by Mr. Peyton appeared. “Hello, Mike,” said Nolos-Gweh. “Mr. Peyton told me you would like to come live with me.”  
Mike nodded. “Yes, Ma’am” he said, shyly.  
Nolos-Gweh looked at Charlie’s parents. They nodded and smiled. “Perhaps Mrs. Peyton and Charlie would like to come along to help you settle in?”  
“Yes, we’d love to,” said Mrs. Peyton.  
Twenty minutes later, Nolos-Gweh turned to Mike. “Ready to go home?” she said.  
Mike nodded, and holding Captain Jack in his arms, walked out to the truck and climbed onto it, followed by Charlie. “Thanks for everything, Mrs. Peyton,” he said as she approached the truck.  
Mrs. Peyton looked at him, “You’re welcome, Mike. Your mother would’ve done the same if…” said Mrs. Peyton, pausing, “…well things will get better, now,” she continued, changing the subject, and sitting up front with Nolos-Gweh.  
As they drove along Ridge Road, Mike watched orchards and vineyards drift by, his head lolling gently from side to side against the cab, feeling at peace.  
Soon, they drove along Center Street in Lewiston and came to a stop. “This is it, Mike,” said Nolos-Gweh, her arm extended out of the truck window, pointing at a small white house, not quite two stories tall, with a porch.  
“We’re here, Captain,” said Mike, and climbing down from the truck, he stepped onto the porch, in front of the house’s red door.  
“The door’s unlocked,” said Nolos-Gweh. “I hope you like it,” she said.  
“It’s great,” said Mike, and opening the door, he stepped over the threshold and stood at the bottom of a stairway, against the left wall of the house. Beside it he noticed a trapdoor. “Is that the way to the basement,” he asked.  
“Yes,” replied Nolos-Gweh, and she moved past him to a large room, occupying the front of the house. “This is the living room,” she said, standing in front of a large red-bricked fireplace, almost as wide as the house itself. “And the kitchen’s this way,” she said, walking through a doorway, between the fireplace and the side wall of the house, followed by Mike.  
In the kitchen Nolos-Gweh pointed to a door leading outside, “Porch and side garden,” she said, opening it. Mike walked outside and stood under the side porch. “At least the wood won’t get wet,” he said, gesturing to a row of split firewood stacked against the right wall of the house. “Mom made us go out in all-weathers—” he began, and he felt his face redden “—I didn’t mean it like that, Ma’am,” he said.  
“I understand, Mike. You can call me Nolos if you like, I won’t mind.”  
“That would be okay?” he asked, a little surprised. “Mom told me to say ma’am or sir when talking to grown-ups.”  
“I don’t think she’d mind, seeing as how you’ll be living here, and quite frankly, I would prefer it, less formal,” she said, smiling.  
“Okay...Nolos,” he said, sheepishly. “I guess it will take some getting used to,” he continued, stepping back through the kitchen door and following her to the living room.  
Charlie descended the stairs, follow by Mrs. Peyton. She looked over the bannister at Mike. “Everything’s ready for you. I know you’ll be very happy here,” she said. “And not only that, but Nolos-Gweh said she’ll be glad to home school Charlie along with yourself.”  
Mike looked at Charlie, “That will be great,” he said.   
“Guess so…” said Charlie, shrugging his shoulders resignedly.  
Mrs. Peyton bristled. “You be thankful to Miss Gweh, or you’ll answer to me, Charlie Peyton,” she said.  
Charlie stepped out of arms reach of his mother. “Yeah...great,” he said, unenthusiastically.  
Mrs. Peyton glared at him. “It’s getting late,” she said, and reached for her coat, hanging on a coat hook by the front door, “and we’d better be getting home. Come on, Charlie,” she said, hustling him out the door.  
When Mrs. Peyton pulled the door closed, Nolos Gweh turned to Mike. “Your bedroom is upstairs, if you’d like to see it. There’s a light switch just inside the bedroom door.”   
“You’ve got electricity?” he said and looked at the ceiling with its single light bulb. “Mom always wanted electricity,” he said, stepping on the stairs.   
At the top, were two doors leading to the bedroom, he pushed the left one open and stepping inside, made wide sweeps in the darkened room with his hand, to find the light switch. And flipping the switch, he narrowed his eyes against its sudden glare. Sure’s a lot brighter than I expected.   
The room was long, at the far end, was a washstand and basin on a stand under the only window in the room. “This is your new home, Captain,” he said as Captain Jack walked past him, and curled up on Mike’s bed, against one wall. Mike walked over to the window and parting the curtains, he made to look out, but only saw his own reflection against the darkness outside.  
Staring at the black night, thoughts raced through his mind, about how things had changed, of his old home and a twinge of melancholy crept over him.  
He thought of Mom as Mrs. Peyton’s words came back to him. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the brightly lit room, Mom wouldn’t like to see me so down, and he walked towards Captain Jack, sprawled on his bed. “Ready,” he said, and picking up Captain Jack, made his way downstairs to the kitchen and Nolos Gweh.  
“Like your bedroom?” she said  
“Yes, ma’am,” Mike looked sheepishly at her. “I mean, Nolos.”  
She gestured to the table and they sat down to eat supper. “You’ve got loads of books. Is it okay to borrow them? My library card was at home when—”  
“—of course, they’re yours as well, feel fr—”  
“—mine?”  
“Yes and don’t worry about your library card, we’ll get a new one later, if you still want to.”  
After supper, Mike ran a finger across the spine of each book on the well-stocked shelves under the stairs in the living room. “These are some of my favorites. You even have Jules Verne,” he said, removing a book, “This one’s about flying to the moon.”  
“I thought you’d like it,” she said, flicking on a nearby lamp.   
The intensity of the lamp blazed in his eyes. “That’s really bright,” he said.  
“All the better for reading by,” she replied.  
Mike smiled, Little Red Riding Hood, he though and settled down to read. It wasn’t until she called him from the kitchen that he realized how late it was. “Would you like some milk and cookies before bed?” she asked.   
“Yes please,” he said, marking his spot in the book and returning it to the shelf. He picked up Captain Jack and rounded the fireplace to the kitchen.  
“I guess Captain Jack would like some supper too,” said Nolos-Gweh, and she poured some milk into a saucer and placed it on the floor.  
They sat down, facing each other. Cookies and milk in front of Mike, a newspaper and glass of water in front of Nolos-Gweh, and ate their supper. When he finished, he looked at Nolos Gweh, grateful to have a home. “I’ll do the dishes,” he said, rising and making his way to the sink.  
She rustled the paper and looked at him, “Oh, Thank you.”   
When he’d finished, he yawned. “Bed time?” she queried.  
“I feel pretty tired,” he said, drying his hands, “Good night, Nolos.”  
“Good night, Mike, I’m so glad you’re here.”  
“Me too,” he said and with feet feeling like lead, made his way upstairs.  
Ever since he started delivering coal with Charlie and his Pa, sleep came as soon as he pulled the covers over himself; but that night, he didn’t even remember hitting the bed, or feel Captain Jack curling up at his feet.


	8. Discovery

Next morning, sunlight blazed through the window, Mike peered through the slit between his eyelids and felt Captain Jack stir at his feet. “Morning Captain. Wonder what time it is,” he said, making a mental note to close the curtains at night   
Captain Jack looked at him, unblinkingly. Mike tried to stare the cat down, and lost.  
He rolled out of bed, splashed some water on his face from the washbasin and after dressing, made his way downstairs to the kitchen.  
Nolos-Gweh was getting breakfast ready. “Good morning, Nolos,” he said.   
“Good morning,” she replied. “Sleep okay?”  
“Yes, thank you.”  
“Hope you like it,” she said, setting a plate of food on the table.  
Mike leaned over the plate, “Smells great,” he said, pulling the chair back and inhaling the aroma once more.  
“When you’re finished, there is something I would like to ask you,” said Nolos-Gweh, “But first,”—she motioned to the food—“breakfast.”  
After breakfast, Mike began to gather the dishes, “You wanted to ask me something?” he said.  
“Yes, Mike. I don’t wish to upset you, but would you mind if I were to visit your old home?”  
The question felt like a scratching on a wound. Mike stirred uneasily.  
“You could come along if you like?” she added.  
Memories and emotions conflicted with each other. He felt his eyes water and glanced away quickly.   
“Maybe it’s too soon, I’m sorry Mike, l understand. It can wait.”  
“No, it’s okay…sometimes I think…I think maybe, maybe…this is just a dream and I’ll wake up and...” he looked at Nolos-Gweh, searchingly.  
But she remained silent.  
“It’s just that—” he paused and looked about, “—only two days ago I was wondering…wondering about finding a job, where to live and then all this happened.” He picked up Captain Jack and held him close. “Maybe, Mrs. Peyton was right, Mom wouldn’t like to see me like this, maybe I should move on.”   
He paused again, and looked at the ground, trying to get his emotions to agree with what he knew was the right thing to do. The pain from the scratched wound seemed to ebb, then it was over, and with his mind made up, he looked at her and nodded, “It’s what Mom and Noel would want me to do,” he said resolvedly.  
“Only when you’re ready, Mike.”  
“I’d like to go this morning?” he said, determinably.   
“You sure?”  
Mike nodded again. “Yes,” he said.  
Shortly afterwards, with the dishes from breakfast cleared away, Mike picked Captain Jack up and followed Nolos-Gweh outside to the truck.   
“Ready?” she asked as he climbed in beside her.  
“Ready,” he replied.  
She started the motor and they made their way east, into the morning sunshine, Mike staring resolutely ahead. Minutes later, the truck slowed, almost to a halt. Nolos Gweh looked at him, and an unasked question hung in the air between them. Mike looked at her and dismissing a final doubt, felt sure. He wanted to go on. He nodded.   
Nolos-Gweh nodded in reply and turning the steering wheel, drove slowly down the lane towards his former home. As they neared it, he spotted their old tire swing, spinning slowly in a gentle breeze. Stirring uneasily, he stared transfixed at it, all the while, stroking Captain Jack unconsciously as they drove past. Then it slipped from view, hidden by the back of the cab.  
The squeal of brakes made him turn around quickly. He blinked, unable to comprehend. There must be some mistake. This wasn’t his home; somehow they had driven down the wrong lane.   
Unable to speak, he swallowed hard and stared at the square of blackened wreckage surrounded by a white picket fence, its gate still closed. Nolos-Gweh put an arm around his shoulder and he leaned his head against her.   
He didn’t know how long he sat there with his eyes closed, crying. But when he opened them again, Nolos Gweh, her arm still around his shoulder, squeezed him gently.  
It felt comforting. Slowly, the flow of tears ebbed, and Mike wiped his eyes. Opening the truck door, he cradled Captain Jack and slid to the ground. Slowly, he made his way to the front gate.  
“Take your time, Mike. I’m here for you,” Nolos Gweh said, touching him gently on the shoulder.   
Placing Captain Jack on the ground, he reached over the gate to wriggle the gate bolt free. Finally, it shot back and ge eased the gate open. It creaked, the sound of its rusty hinges making him shudder. Bending down, he picked up Captain Jack, and held him close and walked unsteadily toward the remnants of the front door, swinging crazily from a single hinge.  
Trying to reconcile the reality with how it used to be, he thought of Mom and Noel, the feeling of loss, making him pause.  
Bracing himself, he took a deep breath, and stepped through the charred doorway and picked his way reverently through the desolation, trying to make sense of the black and formless objects all around.  
He bent down to pick one up, but what seemed so solid moments earlier, just crumbled in his grip. He reached to pick up another and just like the previous one; it crumbled. Every piece he picked up was the same.   
After a while, he stopped and looked around, letting his blackened hands slap limply against his side. “There’s nothing left, everything…everything’s gone,” he said, barely able to choke the words out as he looked down at the ashes all around.  
His gaze strayed to the outline of the rear wall he had scaled down to get his stuff by the pond. Looking beyond it, he saw the stack of wood he had hidden behind.   
He turned to Nolos-Gweh and pointed at it, “Mom said it was never to be used for firewood. She made us promise not to go pulling at it. She said it was very special and would tell us when we got older.”  
Nolos-Gweh turned and looked at the weathered wood, gray with age. “Maybe we should take a closer look,” she said.  
Mike had never seen it like this. Though still intact, it looked different to Mike now. It was bare, stripped of its usual cover of foliage, revealing a web of vines encasing it, the firewood still neatly stacked between two upright.  
They walked towards it and as they got closer, Mike noticed two wooden boards nailed across the top of the stack, to keep it together. “Mom must have done that,” he said, pointing at the boards. “With all the ivy, I never knew we couldn’t take any logs even if we had tried,” he said.  
“Maybe she hid something in it,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike felt a hint of hope rise phoenix like inside. It was the only thing left uncharred of his former home, the only thing that did not crumble in his hands. He stretched out to touch some of the split firewood and felt its sharp edges where it had been split.  
Studying the woodpile carefully, he peered in through the open spaces between the logs, “There’s only wood as far as I can see,” he said and paused, “I wonder why Mom said it was special? Do you think it would be okay with Mon to take it apart?”   
“I think so. You said she was going to tell you one day and maybe today is the right day,” Nolos Gweh replied.  
Mike looked at the wood pile, an edifice, something that was always off limits. He paused, thinking it strange that it was okay to dismantle it. After a few moments he reached out and gripped the end of an ivy vine, to peel it away.   
“May I help?” asked Nolos-Gweh.   
Mike moved to one side so she could stand alongside him. They looked at each other, then together, wordlessly, they began to unfold the web.  
When they had stripped all the vines, they stood back and looked at the pile, framed by the four upright posts and the two boards nailed across the top. Nolos Gweh picked up a short wooden staff lying nearby and stuck one end of it underneath one of the boards nailed across the top, ready to pry it free. But she did not pull down on it, “I think you should do it,” she said, offering the free end of the staff to Mike.  
Gripping it with both hands, he pulled down hard on it to pry the board free. But try as he might, it refused to budge.  
“Maybe if we work together?” said Nolos-Gweh.  
“Okay,” said Mike, and together they pulled down hard, bending the staff under the pressure.  
A nail squeaked and the end of the board sprang loose. Mike looked at the rusty nail sticking uselessly from the board, and careful to avoid the nail, he caught hold of the board, and swung it around, yanking the board free.  
“One to go,” he said, sticking the end of the staff under the other board and repeating the earlier process, freeing the wood from its encasement.  
“This is it,” he said, looking at Nolos-Gweh, and with that, removed the first log from the top row and turned it over and over, examining it. “It’s just a piece of wood,” he said, casting it aside.   
One by one he removed each log and inspected it. And one by one the pile of discarded logs grew higher, as he made his way down through the stack, layer by layer. When he reached the last layer he stood back and looked at the mud colored logs, his last hope, dirty and forlorn looking, barely distinguishable from the surrounding dirt.   
Please, he prayed, and surrendering to the inevitable, stooped and extracted one mud caked log from the soil’s embrace. He rubbed it with his hand to clean it, but the mud was caked on hard. He banged it against one of the upright posts and the mud broke away. He looked at Nolos-Gweh, who smiled back at him.  
He looked at the log, but it was just like all the others. Mechanically he began to inspect the rest, but each one was just like the previous one, a hope dashed, and he cast it aside. Finally, he came to the last one. “This has got to be it,” he said, more in hope than expectation. He stood over it, and taking a deep breath, lifted it clear and studied it.  
His shoulders sagged. Crestfallen, he flung the log onto the pile of discards and felt his anger rise. “It’s not fair,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at the pile of discarded logs. “It’s just a pile of dumb logs, that’s all. What was so important about them? Mom said—it’s supposed to mean something?”  
“There’s still hope,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike glared at her. He wanted to blame her, somebody, anybody, for the pain and the sense of loss he felt inside. Breathing hard, he opened his mouth to speak, to vent his anger.  
“There’s another row,” she said, before he could say anything.  
Mike looked at her disbelievingly and, then to where she was pointing. In the hollow impressions of the last layer, he saw the tops of another row of logs, barely visible. Dropping to his knees, he tore feverishly at the clay, exposing not split logs but round ones with their bark intact. Surely, these have to hold some clue, some meaning, something, anything!  
He dug a hole by the end of a log, the size of his fist, and placing his fingers under one end of it, gripped it and pulled. But it would not budge. He tried again, and straining as hard as he could, felt his face flush red. “Dah,” he said, letting go.  
“Use this,” said Nolos-Gweh, handing him the staff they had used to pry the boards loose. Mike took it from her, and rammed one end into the hole he had dug by the end of the log.  
As if he was stirring a can of beans with a large ladle, he made the hole deeper and readjusting the staff, caught the end of the staff under the log, pivoting it on the rim of the hole he’d dug.   
He pushed down to lever the log free. But the staff only made a groove in the clay where it pivoted. “Use this as a pivot,” said Nolos-Gweh, holding up a length of split wood that Mike had discarded earlier. Mike watched as she placed it across the groove. “Okay, Mike, give it another try,” she said.  
Mike leaned on the staff and felt it bend and jerk as small roots and tendrils snapped and his end of the staff lowered to the ground. Keeping the pressure on, he watched the end of the log surface above its muddy surroundings and heard a last stubborn tendril snap. The log jerked upwards, clear of the ground.  
Excited, he picked it up wiped it with his hand to clean it up some, but only managed to smear the mud on it. He wiped it on a clump of grass and when it was clean enough, pored over it. He shook his head and with a pleading expression, he looked at Nolos-Gweh. “Come on, Mike. Don’t give up just yet. There are more logs. There’s still hope.”  
“It’s pointless,” bellowed Mike.  
She raised an eyebrow at him.  
He looked at the remaining logs. “Okay...fine…” and resignedly poked the staff under another log to pry it free. He picked it up and looked it over. “No good,” he said, repeating the same process until there was only one log, one faint, dirt covered hope.  
When he had freed and examined it however he was seized by a sudden rage, he flung the log onto the pile. He wanted to scream, to vent and rage against the cruelty of it. Breathing hard, he lashed out at the shapeless pile of logs with the staff. Then he brought the staff up again, ready for another blow.  
Captain Jack scampered out of range and stood behind Nolos-Gweh.  
His chest heaving quickly and with tears flowing freely down his face, he swung the staff with all his might, “stupid logs,” he said, “stupid…stupid…stupid logs,” he said, lashing them.  
But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. “Dumb...stupid logs,” he said, kicking them. He raised his leg to stomp on them and lost his balance. Fuming even more, he steadied himself to deliver more blows.   
“Mike, the log,” exclaimed Nolos-Gweh, pointing.  
Surprised, Mike staggered. “What?” he said, drawing the back of his hand across his face, smearing it. He spun round to see the log she was pointing at. It had a wooden plug protruding from its end, like a cork from a bottle.  
Snatching it up, Mike grabbed at the plug and wrenched it free. “It must have come loose when I hit it.” Eagerly, he looked inside and his spirits soared as something shiny reflected the sky.   
Reaching in, he felt his hand close around the object and he withdrew it like a sword from a scabbard. It was about as long as his forearm.  
Etched along its length, were strange symbols, like nothing he had even seen before, “looks like some sort of flute...I think.”   
“No Mike, it’s a numak.”  
Mike looked at her quizzically, “What’s a numak?”  
“It’s a device with many uses, which will be easier to explain once you see it operating. May I?” she asked, holding out her hand.  
Mike handed the numak to her and glanced inside the hollow log again. “Hey, there’s something else,” he said and reaching in, twisted some fabric around his fingers and began to pull it out. “It’s just some old cloth,” he said, withdrawing it. But something else inside made a clunking noise. He looked at Nolos-Gweh and she looked at him, surprised.  
With his fingers extended, he reached in and felt something metallic, a chain. He looped it around his fingers and his grin became broader as gold link after gold link of a chain emerged, followed by a golden pocket watch.   
“It’s Dad’s,” he said, holding it high, the chain’s T-bar in one hand and the watch in the other, the gold chain stretched between them, its golden links flashing in the sunlight.  
“You’re right, Mike,” said Nolos-Gweh, “I remember he had it when I met him in Russia.”  
“I hope it still works,” said Mike, shaking it and holding it to his ear.  
Tick-tick-tick-tick....Mike smiled broadly. It reminded him of when Dad let him listen to it. He looked at Nolos Gweh, “It still works,” he said, “here, listen,” holding it up for her.  
She placed it to the side of her head and smiled, “It sounds beautiful, Mike,” she said.  
Mike stood admiring the watch for a long time and looked at the other round logs he had discarded. “Maybe, there’s more hollow logs,” he said, tucking the watch in his overall’s chest pocket.  
Retrieving each log from the ground, he re-examined each in turn, this time with a lot more scrutiny until he was satisfied it was just an ordinary log. So when he picked up the last one, he was sure when he cast it aside that it was just like the rest.  
That is, until it hit the ground with a clunking sound. Mike looked at where it had impacted the dirt, “Hey, another log,” he said and quickly jabbed the end of the staff under it, to pry it free.   
Casting the staff aside, he dropped to his knees and picking up the log, wiped it against his shirtsleeve. After checking it over and over, he looked up at Nolos Gweh, disappointedly, “No good,” he said. But just to make sure, he gave it an extra bang against another log.  
Some of the caked on clay fell away, revealing a groove that wrapped around one end. “It’s got a cap,” he said, trying to twist it free. Again and again, he tried, but the cap remained firmly in place. “Can you open it?” he said, offering it to Nolos-Gweh.  
“Try again, Mike, I know you can do it.”  
“But—”   
“Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and imagine that it’s coming loose. Use your mind, Mike; you can free it with your mind.”  
Mike stared disbelievingly at her.  
“Trust me, you are capable of more than you know; just give it another try.”  
Mike looked at the log and closing his eyes, took a deep breath and imagined the cap twisting loose.  
After a while, he gasped and looked at the log, its cap still firmly in place. “I thought it was coming loose,” he said.  
“You’re nearly there, Mike. Take a few moments and try again.”  
“Okay,” he agreed, and closing his eyes, willed all his strength into his hands. It’s going to work he thought, holding his breath.   
A minute later, “Dah.... it’s no use. It just won’t budge,” he said, gasping.  
“Use your mind, Mike. You have great potential in your mind. Believe in yourself.”  
“I’m trying to.”  
“Just give it one last try, and if it’s as good as your last effort, I will help you. I know it will work. Just one more time, okay?”  
Mike nodded. Once again he gripped the log in both hands. This time I am not going to give up, even if it takes all day.  
“Clear your mind, Mike. Believe in yourself,” Nolos Gweh whispered. “Concentrate.”  
Mike took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked at the log and focused on it. Only the log exists. No more hoping, just certainty. He closed his eyes and felt the log in his hands. Concentrating hard, a belief in himself like never before slowly took hold.  
Suddenly, it was free. Opening his eyes, he saw a crack wrapped around the log and some of the baked on dirt fall away amid wisps of dust, revealing a groove. “Yes! Yes...yes...yes!” he shouted, thrusting both hands in the air.  
“Well done, Mike,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
“We did it. We did it!” he yelled. “I can’t believe it.” He looked from the cap in one hand to the log in his other and beamed. “You were right, Nolos. We did it.”  
“No, Mike,” said Nolos-Gweh, pointing at him. “You did it alone.”   
“Me?”  
“Yes, you. I only helped you to believe in yourself” she said, looking very pleased, “very well done indeed.”  
Mike scrunched up his face and swallowed hard several times trying to take in what she was saying, but it just would not register with him. He tucked the cap into his pocket and peered into the log. “Yeah, something’s inside.”  
He tilted the log and a small leather package, bound with a red ribbon tied in a bow, slid from the open end and onto his open palm. He gave a cursory look into the log, “There’s nothing else inside,” he said, placing the log under his arm.  
He pulled at one of the ends of the ribbon and the bow unraveled like a shoelace. Unrolling the leather, a small silver cylinder, spun onto his palm. He held it up to show Nolos-Gweh. “Looks like it’s a fat fountain pen, a bit long though,” he said, noticing some more strange symbols, etched on it “But the pocket clip’s missing,” he said, rubbing a finger against it.  
“Huh…” he said, as the symbols began to glow. “I never saw a pen do that before?” he said, looking at Nolos-Gweh.  
“It’s not a fountain pen Mike, it’s a rukou. Your Mom got it in Russia.”  
“What’s it used for?”  
“Oh, a lot of things, but like the numak, it would be better demonstrated than described. But don’t worry, you shall know everything in good time. And tomorrow, I will show you one of its many uses. But for now, would you mind if I took care of the numak and rukou...for safekeeping?” she said.  
Mike handed the rukou to her and took out his dad’s watch. “Ready to go home?” she asked.  
“Yes,” he said, and as they walked to the truck he turned to her, “Thank you for bringing me here.”  
“You’re welcome, Mike,” she said. “There were some things you needed to know and others you had to discover for yourself. I’m glad to see it cheered you up a little.”  
Mike climbed into the truck and watched her walk around to the driver’s side.   
Then he remembered, “I forgot my stuff!” he said, looking at her as she opened the driver’s door  
“Mmm?” said Nolos-Gweh, her hand on the steering wheel, about to climb behind it. She looked at him.  
“I left my fishing rod and slingshot by the creek when I ran home. You know…” he said, gesturing to the burnt-out remains, “…when all this happened.”  
“No problem. We can get them now,” she said, backing away and walking round to his side. “Which way?” she said. Mike waved in the general direction of the forest path. “Let’s get your stuff, then,” she said.  
Mike climbed from the truck and made his way along the path, followed closely by Captain Jack and Nolos-Gweh. At the bend he paused and turned around, “This is as far as I got before I was blown back,” he said.   
Nolos-Gweh reached out and touched his forearm, “Mike, I know this is difficult for you, but before the explosion,”—she crouched down to eye level with him—“Did you notice anything…anything unusual or out of place?”  
He thought for a minute, “I… don’t think so.”  
“Did you see anyone—any strangers—near the house?”  
Again he shook his head and thought about the argument he had with Noel. “Me and Noel were sent to our bedroom by Mom, but then Noel said he’d left my stuff by the pond, so I sneaked out to get them. I knew he’d be sweating in case Mom came to our room, because I knew he wouldn’t snitch…I only called him that, because I was angry with him,” he said, unable to hold back his words, yet relieved to let the truth and the pain out. He lowered his head. “I didn’t mean anything bad should happen when I said I’d make him sorry. I was so mad at him.”  
“It’s okay, Mike. Sometimes we say things we really don’t mean, even when we’re real mad at someone.” She cupped her hand under his chin, and tilting his head a little higher, looked gently into his eyes.  
Mike searched her blue eyes, somehow it felt comforting.  
“If Noel was here, he would tell you it was okay. Wouldn’t he?” she said, removing her hand.  
“I guess so,” said Mike, “We always made up.”  
“You know you would if you had the chance. You mustn’t blame yourself, Mike. There was nothing you could have done, it’s not your fault.”  
“It’s just that when I think about it...if I had been there, gotten home a few minutes earlier, then maybe—”  
“Don’t blame yourself, Mike. You ran home as fast as you could. Trust me, there was nothing you could have done to change things. I want you to really think about it,” she paused, “If you were just a little earlier, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”  
“When I was on the rock...you know...by the pond.” He paused. “I got this funny feeling, like a bellyache. I knew something bad was going to happen. I just knew. I had to get home as fast as I could.” He looked down the path and pointed. “When I was lying there, I saw stuff falling down on top of me, but I couldn’t hear any noise. It was weird. I couldn’t move, and then...then”—he paused again and looked at her—“someone…yeah, someone came and pulled some of the branches off me. It was all kind of fuzzy; I don’t remember anything else much—I must have passed out.”  
Nolos-Gweh patted his arm. “In time it will get easier. Give it some time.”  
Mike nodded. “In a way, Noel saved my life. If he hadn’t left my stuff on the rock...If it wasn’t for him, I would still have been in the house, instead of down by the creek.”  
“Captain Jack looks pleased with himself,” said Nolos-Gweh, making a not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject.  
Mike looked at Captain Jack and smiled.  
“He doesn’t know that he has only one eye,” Nolos Gweh added.  
Captain Jack raised his head as if he knew they were talking about him. Mike stretched out his hand and stroked the cat from muzzle to tail. Captain Jack purred, arching his back. “Do you think Captain Jack misses Mom...and Noel?” he said, still stroking the cat’s sleek black-and-white fur.  
“He likes being around people. But then again, he acts more like a dog than he does a cat. He doesn’t seem to know that he’s a cat either,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike laughed, “It’s all right, boy. It’ll be okay. No need to fret. I’ll look after you,” he said, lifting Captain Jack into his arms and turning around again, continued along the branch littered path.  
The path opened onto the grassy clearing and Mike looked across at the rock. “I forgot I’d left my boots and socks as well,” he said, pointing to them by his fishing pole on the rock, as they walked towards it.  
When they reached it, he picked up his fishing pole. “I can hold that for you,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
“Thank you,” he said, handing it to her.   
He bent down again and picked up his boots and socks. Then stood and looked all about the wall of forest fringing the clearing. He peered intently into its dark areas, searching for the cause of the unseen fear that made him run, his fear evaporating, until finally, they didn’t seem so threatening anymore. He turned away, and looked at Nolos-Gweh, standing alongside him.   
They stood awhile, silent, staring vacantly at the water, listening to its murmurings. Then, without a word, they turned and side by side, started across the clearing to the trail. He stopped and let her go ahead, then fell in behind.  
At the top of the trail, he looked at the fence surrounding the blackened square, “I need to close the gate,” he said. “Mom always told us to keep it closed.”   
Nolos-Gweh nodded.  
He made his way over to the gate, and pulling upwards, to keep the hinge from squeaking, eased it closed and wriggled its bolt home. He narrowed his eyes. Then, unbidden, he thought he heard his own voice speaking to him, “It’s me, Mom...it’s Mike. I miss you and Dad and Noel. For a while I wasn’t sure where I’d end up but I’m living with Nolos-Gweh now, here in Lewiston, so don’t worry about me; I’ll be okay. We found Dad’s watch and the other stuff in the logs, but we had to take the firewood stack apart. I hope that’s okay. Tell Noel I’m sorry for all the fights and everything.”  
As if by some benevolent hand, a gentle breeze picked up and blew over his face. It felt soothing. He looked up at the white clouds marbling the blue sky, “I miss all of you so very much. But I know you’ll always be near, no matter where I am.” He stood for a few minutes more, then it was time to go. He turned to look at Nolos-Gweh and wordlessly they walked towards the truck.  
Mike put his fishing pole, boots and socks in the back and climbed into the cab beside Captain Jack, sitting between him and Nolos-Gweh. The truck came to life, carefully Nolos-Gweh reversed it up the lane as Mike stared through the windshield at his former home. Watching it recede as they went.   
At the main road, Nolos-Gweh turned the wheel towards Lewiston, and stopped. “Ready, Mike?” she said.  
Mike, his elbow through the open truck window, retrieved Dad’s watch from his breast pocket and looked back along the lane. Then he nodded and put the watch to his ear, listening to its ticking, like the heartbeat of a memory, warming and soothing, filling some of the hollowness he felt inside. He looked at Nolos-Gweh. Somehow, he didn’t feel quite so alone anymore.  
“You okay?” she said.  
“Yeah,” he said.   
And he was.


	9. Fort Niagara

The next morning, after breakfast, Mike and Nolos-Gweh drove north along River Road, “Where are we going?” Mike asked, looking at the Niagara River as they drove downstream along its bank.  
“Fort Niagara, the old French Castle,” Nolos-Gweh replied. “There’s something there that no one else knows about. Something I believe you’ll find very exciting and extremely interesting.”  
“What is it?”  
“It’s a surprise, and we don’t want to spoil the surprise now, do we?” she said and they drove on, towards Youngstown and Fort Niagara Army Base beyond.   
When they reached the base, a large sign riveted Mike’s attention, “FORT NIAGARA ARMY BASE, NO TRESPASSING”. “How are we going to get in?” he asked.  
“Don’t worry—everything’s taken care of,” said Nolos-Gweh. “Do you know the history of the castle?”  
“Mom said that it was built by the French a long time ago.”  
“She was right, but there are some things about the fort that very few know about. And today, I want to show you one of its biggest secrets.”  
Before Mike could ask another question, they approached the sentry post with its large no trespassing—trespassers may be shot sign prominently displayed. “Don’t we need a pass or something?” Mike asked.  
“Or something,’ said Nolos-Gweh.  
The sentry leaned out of his post and held up his hand, ordering them to stop. He checked his clipboard, and then looked from Mike to Nolos-Gweh, who seemed totally unconcerned as she slowed the truck to a halt.   
“Good day, sir,” she said.  
“Ma’am,’ the sentry replied officiously, “Please wait here.” He walked to the front of the truck, flipped a page on his clipboard and dabbing the tip of his pencil twice on his tongue to wet it, wrote down the truck number.   
Try as he might to look calm and not look at the sentry, Mike found himself glancing at the inquisitive sentry more than he wished as the sentry went around the back of the truck and reappeared at the driver’s door.   
“Reason for your visit, Ma’am?” he asked.  
“We’re here to visit the French Castle,” Nolos-Gweh replied.  
“You got some ID?”  
A trickle of sweat rolled down Mike’s temple. But, Nolos Gweh held up a card and offered it to the sentry.   
The sentry took the card and nodded. “Looks in order,” he said.  
“I will be needing the keys to the French Castle as well,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike swallowed hard and looked from Nolos-Gweh to the sentry. “Yes, ma’am, just a moment,” he said and stepped back inside his sunlit post.   
He ran his finger along a row of small white labels above a line of keys on hooks, stopping on ‘FRENCH CASTLE’, with a large key hung pendulously from it. Unhooking it, he turned and re-emerged. He walked to the driver side window, “There you go, ma’am,” he said, handing it to Nolos Gweh.  
“Thank you.” She turned and passed it to Mike. “Hold it for me, please, Mike” she said.   
Mike took it, feeling as if his face was on fire. Nolos Gweh turned back to the sentry, “Thank you, sir,” she said.  
“Sure thing, ma’am,” the sentry replied and turning about, raised the red-and-white striped entrance barrier and waved them through.  
The truck rolled forward. We’re breaking into an army base, thought Mike and no matter how he tried to feign the look of innocence, he was unable to pull his gaze from the sentry, his eyes swiveling in their sockets, growing ever wider as they drove through.  
Once beyond the barrier, he looked from Nolos-Gweh to the sentry, twisting his head round several times. She glanced at him. “You’ll hurt your neck doing that,” she said with a smile and they drove ever deeper into the base.   
“You had me worried back there, I didn’t know you had a pass,” Mike whispered.   
She handed the card to him, “Check it out,” she said, whispering conspiratorially.  
He took it and turned it over. Then he turned it over again. Confused, he stared at it and flipped it over several more times. “It’s…” he held it up and flipped both sides around to show her, “…blank,” he said in a low voice.  
Nolos-Gweh smiled. “You sure?” she asked. “What did you expect to see?”  
“I don’t know, maybe, something like entry pass to Fort Niagara army base?” he said lowering his hand.  
“You mean it doesn’t say that?” she said, “You sure?”  
“Yeah,” he said, raising it up to show her, “It’s…” and then his jaw dropped. “How—” he said, staring at the words, ENTRY PASS, FORT NIAGARA ARMY BASE, “—and it’s even got today’s date,” he looked at her.  
Nolos-Gweh inclined her head toward him and winked, “With lots of practice.”   
He looked at her and looked at the card again. “We could be shot, they’ll think we’re spies,” he said, and slid a little lower in his seat to hide.  
She looked at him and smiled, “It’s okay, you can sit up.”  
“How did you—did you hypnotize him?”  
“Not really, he saw what he was expecting to see,” she said.   
Mike looked around and stared at people and soldiers going about their business, surprised that no one seemed to take any notice of them as they drove through the base. “Don’t worry so much, Mike. Everything will be fine.”  
They continued, past the officers’ quarters and the lighthouse, past the earth mounds and the large depression with its brick scarp wall and old gun ports, right to the walls surrounding the French Castle compound itself. Then they turned and drove along the Western access road, sandwiched between the Niagara River on their left and the fort’s battlement wall towering above them on their right. Mike gazed up as they drove past. He looked ahead, his mind racing to figure out where they were going, and saw an arched opening in the fort’s grey stony façade, the river gate.   
The truck slowed and Nolos-Gweh drove through the arch and emerged onto a large expansive parade ground. “That’s the old French Castle,” Mike said, pointing to a three story chateau-like structure on the northern end. “Mom used to bring me here when the fort held open days. We climbed all the way up there once,” he said pointing.  
Nolos-Gweh looked to where Mike was pointing, the dormer gun ports on the roof of the castle, “We won’t be going up there today, Mike.” She drove towards the old bake house, between the castle and the western curtain wall, and stopped. “Today, we’ll be going down, so I get to show you my laboratory,” she said, switching off the engine and opening the cab door.  
Getting out, she walked to the center door, one of three imposing oak doors, equally spaced across the façade of the castle. Mike ran after her, “Laboratory?” he said, catching up to her as they reached the door. “I never knew there was a laboratory in the castle,” he said.  
“Not many know there is one. You need to know where to look,” she said, looking at him. “Key please, Mike,” she said and he gave it to her.  
Inserting the key into the lock, she turned it. Mike heard a clunking sound and she pushed the door open. “After you, Mike,” she said. He hesitated, looking around to see if anyone was watching them, and that’s when he heard quickened footsteps76. He stopped.   
“Hey, you can’t go in there,” a gruff voice said. Mike felt a shiver run down his back and spun around to see a uniformed soldier, his arm raised warningly, heading straight for them.   
The soldier came to a halt and glared down at Nolos Gweh and Mike, what have we gotten ourselves into? thought Mike.  
“The castle’s off limits,” said the soldier, “You’ll need a signed pass.” Mike looked at Nolos-Gweh, who didn’t look at all concerned. She seemed totally unfazed by the soldier’s angry challenge, as if this happened all the time.   
Mike felt his heart thu-thumping against his chest as Nolos-Gweh held up the same blank pass, “Of course,” she said, unflinchingly.  
I hope this works, thought Mike.  
The soldier took the card and ran a finger down along it. “Seems in order, Ma’am” he said, handing it back to her. He looked at Mike. “Sorry, son, I didn’t mean to scare you. Just doing my duty.”  
“That’s”—Mike’s voice broke—“Okay, sir,” he said, his voice rising a little.  
“On you go, Mike,” said Nolos-Gweh, gesturing to the front door.  
Walking past the soldier, Mike stepped onto the entry hall’s stone floor, trodden smooth by centuries of moccasins and hard heeled boots. The room was just as he remembered it; with its rough grey stone walls and a high graceful arc of stone near the back wall, stretching from one side of the wide room to the other.   
Nolos Gweh followed him in, turned, and spoke to the soldier standing outside. “Thank you,” she said and she eased the door closed, squeezing out the sunlight.   
Everything went dark and for a moment black. Then as he got used to the dim light filtering down two oak staircases on either side of the doorway, he saw Nolos Gweh walk to the back of the room, under the arch. She swept her foot across the floor, making arcs in the dust, looking for something.  
Then she straightened, “Ah,” she said, and pressed the toe of her shoe into a dust filled hole.  
Mike heard the metal bar on the outside of the entrance door swing into place and the padlock snap shut. “He’s locked us in,” he said.   
Nolos-Gweh looked up from the dusty floor. “It’s okay,” she said, putting her hand in her coat pocket. She pulled out the rukou, smiled and raised it high in the air.   
Then she let it go.  
The rukou hung vertically in the air, a dull red glow emanating from its lower end. She looked at him, “Did you know there was a well in here?”   
Mike looked from the rukou to Nolos-Gweh. “What well? There’s no well in the castle,” he said.   
“In that case you will have a double surprise,” she said as a ring of light appeared in the stone floor beneath her feet.   
“Whoa…What is that?” said Mike.  
“The well I was talking about,” she said.  
Mike looked around. “Oh…” he said, “I thought you were going to show me your Laboratory and I was wondering where it is?”  
“It’s right here,” she said, pointing to the floor.   
“Down the well?”  
“Ordinarily we would use the regular entrance, but since the lab was put into a dormant state, the well’s the only way in.”  
Mike laughed. “In the well? I thought you were going to say basement,” he said.  
“Oh it’s a lot deeper than a basement,” said Nolos Gweh, stepping back out of the ring. She extended her arms and held them out straight, under the rukou.   
A grid-like pattern of spokes and concentric rings glowed in the grimy floor. “That’s crazy—” said Mike, taking a step backward.  
“It’s okay, Mike. This is the old water well that has been covered over for many years,” she said.  
Mike approached tentatively. “The floor’s gone,” he said, pointing through the grill openings.  
“It’s the well that people forgot was there” said Nolos-Gweh.  
“Is it a dry well,” said Mike.   
“No, it’s got water.”  
Mike rummaged through his pockets and withdrew a round of ammunition for his sling-shot, a pebble. “Okay if I drop it in?” he said.   
Nolos-Gweh nodded and he opened his hand. Moments later, he heard a plop, as the stone hit the surface of the unseen water below.  
“Time to go,” she said, lifting her foot to step onto the grille.  
“You’ll fall,” he said, rushing around the grille to stop her. But he was too late.  
He stopped, dumbfounded, and looked at her. She was standing on the grill of light. “Well come on,” she said, motioning him to join her.  
Recovering from the shock, Mike raised one foot and tentatively tapped the grille, ready to pull it back in an instant. “It’s solid,” he said, grinning up sheepishly at her. Gingerly, he stepped on beside her.  
“Ready?” she said.  
“For what?” Mike asked, suddenly nervous.  
“For the first chapter of a grand new adventure,” she replied.  
The grill descended. As if the floor was ice and the grill was a hot poker, it cored its way through the floor. Down they went and when his eyes were at floor level, he looked at the gap under the door of the castle. For a moment he glimpsed daylight and stood on his toes, trying to keep it in view, then it was gone.  
He looked up at the rukou, keeping pace with them. “How far down does it go?” he asked.  
“That would spoil the surprise. But there’s no need to worry, everything is functioning just as it should.”  
“I’m not worried,” said Mike unconvincingly. “I rode in an elevator with Mom once.”  
“This isn’t just any elevator.”  
Mike looked up beyond the rukou, expecting to see the ceiling of the entrance hall still faintly illuminated, a glimpse of something familiar. Instead, he found himself staring at the underside of a capstone sealing the wellhead above. He looked at Nolos-Gweh.  
“Everything’s still okay,” she said.  
Mike didn’t reply. He looked through the grille and saw the reflection of the rukou on the water below. It was close. Very close, and getting closer. “Are we almost there?” said Mike wincing.   
“Not quite. You’ll know when we’ve arrived.”  
Mike looked about for an opening in the walls. But there was none. “The water’s about to come through,” he said, standing on his tiptoes..  
Nolos-Gweh looked down at him and then at the grille below. “Oh good,” she said.  
Mike glanced from Nolos-Gweh to the grille and then at the well wall, which continued to slide up. “But we’ll drown!”  
“Look down again,” she said.  
Mike looked down. A ring of water began to rise up around the edge of the grille. Mesmerized, he watched the water rise higher all around. “It’s like we’re inside a glass tumbler,” he said. But as he spoke, the water began to close in over them, and form a cone, with the rukou as the point. “Hope the roof’s not leaking,” he said.  
Nolos-Gweh smiled at him, “Everything’s still okay,” she said. Mike smiled back at her as the ring of water around his feet gave way to a ring of mud.  
“Look at all the cutlery and crockery,” he said, pointing to a layer of knives, forks, spoons, some rusty; along with cups, plates and an assortment of kitchen utensils floating by, as the mud gave way to layers of rock.  
He reached out to touch the surface, expecting to feel it slide upwards. Instead of rough rock, he felt a smooth barrier, “It’s warm. It’s like we’re sealed inside a glass tank.”  
As soon as he said it, a thought struck him. We’re sealed in...there’s no more air. He looked at Nolos-Gweh, “We’ll suffocate!” he said and taking a deep, audible breath, puffed out his cheeks.  
“Trust me, Mike. There is nothing to worry about. You can breathe normally.”  
Still, Mike held his breath.  
Nolos-Gweh laughed.  
One minute later, Mike gasped, “Puuh” he uttered, breathing out again. And just as he did so, light flooded through the grille beneath them.  
Looking down he saw why. Far below their feet, was the floor of a well-lit cavern. “This is the scary part, Mike,” said Nolos Gweh.  
“Scary part?” he said.  
“Yes, Mike, try not to look down. Keep looking up at the rukou,” she said. Mike fixed his gaze on the rukou. But every now and again his eyes flitted to the side, catching glimpses of rock sliding by.   
They continued down, Mike gasped, as all around a vast cavern spread out and the grill they were standing on floated in mid-air, with nothing, seemingly, to keep it from plummeting to the floor.  
Instinctively, he moved closer to Nolos-Gweh and looked up at her, then at the rukou, surrounded by a cone shape cavity in the rock, growing smaller as the rukou descended, then it was gone. Leaving the ceiling intact, unblemished, its smooth, surface curving away all around.  
Giving a quick glimpse, he saw the cavern was really a smooth walled dome. And it was huge, he glanced down at the floor.  
Instantly he regretted it. His legs felt like rubber. We’re standing on a grille, floating in mid-air, we must be over a hundred feet above the floor, with nothing to hold on to. He looked up suddenly at Nolos-Gweh, the sudden shift making him lose his balance.   
“Whoa....” he said, shooting his arms out straight to steady himself. To his relief, his hands pressed against an invisible wall, “Ha, we’re still inside the tank,” he said.  
“It would have been less scary if you had kept your eyes on the rukou,” she said, raising her eyebrows.  
“Yeah,” he said, with a nervous smile, making circular motions with his hands on the wall, checking to make sure it was intact. Yet, even though his hands were sweating, they left no marks.   
Relaxing a little, Mike looked down at the floor, the center of which was a large silvery disc, surrounded by concentric rings and with straight lines radiating from it. “The floor looks like a giant sized dartboard,” he said.  
“Oh...yes, I see. I never thought of it like that,” said Nolos-Gweh. “And we’re aiming at the bullseye.”  
At last they neared the floor, Mike braced himself for a sudden stop that did not happen. Instead, the grille submerged, into the floor’s silvery disc. “Is there another level?” he asked.   
Nolos-Gweh only raised her eyebrows. “We’ll see,” she said, and he felt himself decelerate and stop, the radiating lines of their grill joining seamlessly with those on the floor.  
“This is where we get off,” said Nolos-Gweh, “welcome to my laboratory,” she said, reaching up to retrieve the rukou.  
Mike, his arms still pressing against the wall, watched the light on the rukou go out, and felt the wall collapse, its sudden loss making him stagger. He steadied himself and stood motionless for a moment, his legs still locked in a braced position, his arms outstretched. He looked at Nolos-Gweh.  
“That was fun,” she said, grinning.  
Mike lowered his arms and slowly turned about, “Nolos, if this is a dream, I want to make sure that I can remember it when I wake up,” he said.  
“It’s no dream, Mike. This is your choice, your future, if you choose to pursue it.”


	10. Laboratory

Two weekends later, while fishing with Charlie on the Niagara River, Mike heard a ferry horn blasting out its departure. Reeling in his fishing line, he looked upriver. “Chippawa’s leaving,” he said, watching the gap between the jetty and ferry grow wider.   
The mooring lines trailed through the water and were sucked up, like spaghetti, through the ferry’s fairleads. Charlie looked up. “Must be five o’clock, I’ve got to be home in half an hour.”  
“How many did we catch?” said Mike.  
“We?” said Charlie mockingly. “Well...we...caught three and a quarter, if you count the minnow you caught,” he said and laughed.  
“I thought you threw it back?”  
“I did”—Charlie smiled—“but a catch is still a catch.”  
Mike laughed and looked away. Upstream another ferry was taking on more passengers for Toronto and he cast out his line onto the water again. Moments later, something tugged on his fishing line. “I got a bite!” he yelled, jerking the fishing pole upward. The line slackened. “It got away.”  
“Another one? Like I told you, you have to let them take the bait first,” said Charlie, as the Chippawa glided by, its paddlewheels thrashing through the water.  
Mike heard the Chippawa’s engines pulsing and watched its beam on the top deck teeter-tottering, pounding up and down, keeping time.  
A fish rippled the surface and Mike cast a line into the center. “I can hardly wait for school to start. I’ve never done home school before. Nolos-Gweh will make a great teacher. How about you, Charlie? You looking forward to school?”  
Charlie looked at him, his fishing line clenched in his teeth as he tried to sort out a tangle of knots. “No way, I prefer fishing, but I don’t have a choice. Mom says that”—he gripped another knot in his teeth—“It’s either Nolos Gweh or boarding school.”  
“What’s wrong with boarding school? It could be fun.”  
“That’s not what I heard.” Charlie pulled on a long piece of fishing line, the last piece of the puzzle, unraveling the knot. He turned to Mike. “I know a kid named John who went to boarding school, and it’ll be a long time before he’s back—if he ever gets back,” he said, casting the tangle-free line back into the river.  
“Never?” said Mike.  
“Nope, not till he’s sixteen at least. That’s if he’s lucky and doesn’t get sick, like Cecelia,” Charlie paused to let the facts sink in. “Her ma and pa got a letter saying she took ill with the flu and died.”  
Mike felt his throat tighten. “That’s what happened to Pa,” he said. “I miss him—I miss him a lot.”  
“I know, Mike. You’re like me now, an orphan”  
“You’ve got a mom and dad,” Mike countered.  
“They’re not my real parents. George is really my uncle. When I was a baby, I became an orphan and they pretended I was theirs. Well, Ma’s really,” said Charlie.  
“How come?” said Mike.  
“To stop me from being sent to boarding school with the other Tuscarora kids. And they have to keep on pretending I’m theirs”—Charlie lowered his voice—“or they’ll get into a lot of trouble if they’re found out.”  
“I knew you were Tuscarora...but, wow, I didn’t know all that.”  
“Hardly anyone knows, and you can’t tell anyone about it either. You promise?”  
“I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die,” said Mike, drawing his thumb across his chest. “Your ma’s working full-time for Nolos-Gweh, right?”  
“Well Ma say that it feels like full-time with what Nolos-Gweh is paying her. But really, it’s just part-time. Even so, Pa was able to quit delivering coal.” Charlie grabbed the bag of fish. “We best get home; Ma will want to cook these for supper.”  
Mike looked upriver, beyond a rocky stretch of river bank, at the stern of another ferry tied up to the quay. Scrambling across the rocks, coming towards them, he spotted a young girl waving agitatedly at them. Mike and Charlie looked at each other.  
The girl drew closer, “Help me—please help me,” she pleaded and she glanced back at a crewman from the ferry, chasing her.  
“Stop her! Stop that girl,” cried the crewman.  
The girl flitted from rock to rock. The crewman, matching her every move, did the same as he closed in on her with an arm outstretched, his fingers barely inches from her. The girl glanced back again and saw the crewman lunge at her. She screamed and ducked out of reach, zigzagging to throw him off.  
The crewman lunged again to grab her.  
She zigged to her right.  
He zagged to his left. “Aaagh,” he wailed, grasping a handful of air and losing his balance. Arms flailing, he hit the water and disappeared under the surface, leaving his cap floating on top.  
Laughing, Mike and Charlie pointed to the cap as the crewman resurfaced and stood up, chest-deep in the water, fuming. Grabbing his soggy hat, he stuck it on his head, and shook his fist, “I’ll get you, missy, if it’s the last thing I do!” he shouted.  
The girl didn’t slow as she closed on Mike and Charlie. “Please...please help me,” she said.   
Mike looked past the girl at the crewman wading ashore.  
“You boys, don’t let her go,” the crewman yelled, clambering onto the rocky shore.  
Charlie looked at Mike. “We can’t just leave her.”  
“And we can’t get involved with no police investigation. That’s the last thing we need,” replied Mike, looking around “Let’s get back through the hole in the wall.”  
Charlie didn’t hesitate. He scampered across the rocks, heading downriver toward a small opening at the base of a high stone wall.  
Mike looked at the girl. “Come on,” he shouted, gesturing to her. The girl raced past. He looked at the crewman, then picked up his fishing pole, turned, and ran after the girl, across the rocky shoreline.  
A hundred yards downstream, Charlie, the bag of fish swinging wildly in one hand and his fishing pole in the other, neared the opening in the wall. He threw the fish and his fishing pole through the opening and crouching down on all fours, scurried in after them. Once inside, he turned and poked his head out. “Hurry, he’s catching up!” he shouted.  
The girl reached the wall and crawled through the opening just as Mike reached it. “Grab my fishing pole,” he yelled, almost hitting Charlie in the face.  
Charlie took the pole and whipped it through as the girl pulled her legs in and the sound of the crewman’s boots stomping on the rocks grew louder. Moving as fast as he could, Mike scrambled on all fours, to get through the opening and heard the sound of the crewman’s heavy stomping boots come to a crunching stop. He was close—too close for comfort.   
Mike rolled onto his back and tucked his legs in. But too late, he looked down and saw a wet hand clamp tight around his ankle and pull hard. Instinctively, he braced his free leg against the wall and strained to hold on.  
“Mike—” said Charlie, grabbing his arms to stop him from sliding back.   
But it was no good; the crewman was too strong. Slowly Mike began to slide inexorably through the opening as the pain in his leg grew stronger, he couldn’t hold on, he would have to let go, it was only a matter of time.   
He looked down and saw the triumphant look on the crewman’s face. “Gotcha. You ain’t going nowhere, sonny. I’m gonna teach you a lesson you’re never going to forget.”  
Wham! Out of nowhere, a fishing pole came down hard on the crewman’s wrist.  
“Yeow!” yelled the crewman and Mike felt the crewman’s grip slacken for a moment.   
He looked up. The girl was standing to one side of the opening with his fishing pole in her hand. She raised it and brought it crashing down on the crewman’s hand again. “Get your filthy...stinking...hands...off...him,” she said, raining down blows with each word.  
But the crewman held on. Charlie pulled on Mike who fought against the pain intensifying in his leg, “Aagh,” uttered Mike and giving one last effort, strained to pull free.   
Quick as lightning, the girl dropped to her knees, and grabbing the crewman’s arm, bit into it.  
“Ow!” he yelled, pulling his hand back.  
Mike was free. He scrambled, crablike, away from the hole as fast as he could, helped on by Charlie and the girl. The crewman lunged back through the opening, stretching in as far as his frame and reached to grab Mike’s leg again.  
Mike pulled back even farther and looked at the crewman’s hand barely inches from his feet. “I’ll get you for this!” the crewman shouted.  
“Yeah,” said Charlie, “You’ll have to catch us first.”  
“Move,” said Mike. He got to his feet and leading the way, headed through the back alleyways and gardens of his new neighborhood, dodging, weaving, and climbing over fences until he came to a low gap in a hedge. “Through there,” he said. “You can’t see it from here, but this is the back of my new home.”  
“That was too close,” said Charlie, unable to resist a nervous laugh.  
“Yeah, it was,” said Mike, also laughing. He bent down and crawled under a clump of bushes, emerging on the other side behind their garden shed.  
Charlie came next. Then the girl poked her head through the opening. Mike gestured to her. “What are we going to do now?” he mouthed.  
Charlie shrugged.  
The girl stood up and beamed at them. Then, seeing that they had quizzical looks on their faces, her expression became serious. “I want to thank y’all for saving my hide back there. I don’t know what I would a done if you two fine gentlemen hadn’t taken a risk in helping me escape from that feller. You were really brave a-doing what you did”—she smiled—“me being a stranger round these here parts and all.”  
Mike stared, lost for words.  
“Well, we couldn’t let you get caught,” said Charlie.  
Mike came to his senses. “Who are you?” he asked.  
The girl smoothed down her dress and gulped. “Ain’t I terrible? Forgetting my manners an’ all.” She offered her hand to Mike. “I’m Hannah...Hannah Leigh...Pleased to meet you.”  
Slowly, Mike held out his hand and shook hers. “I’m...Mike,” he said. “This here’s my best friend, Charlie,” he added, nodding in Charlie’s direction.  
She turned from Mike to Charlie and reached to shake his hand, giving him a big smile. “Pleased to meet you, Charlie,” she said.   
“Yeah, pleased to meet you,” said Charlie.  
“You live around here?” said Mike, just as Mrs. Peyton opened the side door of the house. Mike spun around, to look at her. A wave of relief washed over him when he saw Mrs. Peyton turn away from them and head for the woodpile under the side porch.  
Mike spun around to Hannah, “Hide,” he said, pulling the shed door open and shoving her inside.  
A crash of buckets and garden implements resonated from the shed. Mrs. Peyton stopped and turned around and Mike felt his face flush. Look casual, he told himself.  
He placed a hand on the shed and leaned on it, nonchalantly looking at the ground. “What are you two up to?” asked Mrs. Peyton.  
“Hi, Ma,” said Charlie sheepishly.  
She looked quizzically at them. “Charlie?”  
“Nothing, Ma, just got back from fishing,” said Charlie.  
“Did you catch anything, Mike?” said Mrs. Peyton and he felt himself get awfully hot all of a sudden.  
Mike grinned sheepishly. “Catch? Oh you mean fish. Yeah, we did...catch fish…” he said, nodding his head. It felt so lame.  
Charlie looked at Mike and raised his eyes skyward. “We caught three, Ma,” he said, raising the bag of fish to show her.  
“Mmm…” uttered Mrs. Peyton, giving them the ‘I know you’re up to something look’. “Well, I need some firewood brought inside,” she said, tilting her head and gesturing to the stack of wood on the porch.  
“Of course, Mrs. Peyton. No problem,” said Mike.  
“Okay, Ma, we’ll stack it for you too,” Charlie added.  
She looked at Charlie. “We’ll have those fish for supper when we get home to your pa,” and shaking her head, stepped over the threshold to the kitchen.  
“That was close. Think she knows?” Mike asked.  
Charlie nodded. “She always knows.”  
“I’m hungry,” said Hannah.  
“Ssh,” hissed Charlie at the door. Raising his eyebrows, he wrinkled his forehead and looked at Mike.  
“Okay, we’ll bring something back for you,” Mike whispered to the door. “Just stay quiet and out of sight until I come back.” What have we gotten ourselves into? he thought.  
Together, Mike and Charlie collected some wood and carried it into the kitchen. “Boy that smells good,” said Mike. “I sure am hungry.”  
Mrs. Peyton put on her coat and headed for the front door. “Come on, Charlie,” she said, beckoning him. “It’s time we were off.”  
Charlie picked up the bag of fish. “See you tomorrow, Mike,” he said, casting a meaningful glance from Mike to the shed outside.  
“Yeah, tomorrow,” said Mike as he watched Charlie pull the door closed behind him.  
“Let’s eat,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike sat down opposite her and ate as fast as he could, glancing out at the garden shed between each hurried bite and drink.  
“You seem to be in a big hurry,” said Nolos-Gweh. “I’ve never seen you eat this fast before.”  
Mike flushed, and gulping down the food in his mouth, pushed the half-full plate away.  
Nolos-Gweh looked at the plate. “Not hungry?”  
“Not really,” said Mike, shaking his head. He cleared his throat, which seemed to be very dry all of a sudden. “Nolos?” he croaked.  
“Yes, Mike?”  
“I...I...” stuttered Mike, “well...you see…when Charlie and me were fishing, there was this girl being chased by a crewman from the ferry. He looked really mean. We had no choice; we had to help her, so—so I hid her.” It had come out all wrong, but now that the truth was out, he felt relieved.  
“Hid a girl, Mike?” said Nolos-Gweh, in mock surprise. “Where?”  
Mike pointed through the open kitchen door, to the weathered woodshed, now barely visible in the gathering dusk. “The garden shed—she was so frightened.” His voice grew quieter. “I didn’t know what else to do.”  
“Mmm, well…the woodshed’s no place for guests now, is it?” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike shook his head.  
“Well go on, then. Invite the young lady in,” she said with a wide smile.  
Mike raced to the kitchen door, swung it wide, and bounded through the darkness toward the shed. He grabbed the door handle and yanked it open.  
A red flash exploded in his eyes. Pain erupted in his shins and chest. “What—” He cried, raising his arms instinctively. He backed away, blinking, and caught glimpses of flailing arms and kicking legs. “It’s me. Mike,” he said.  
The barrage stopped.  
“Oh. Mike…I’m so sorry.” said Hannah, emerging from the shed, into the dim light, with one arm raised and glancing about, “I thought you were that horrible man from the ferry.” She lowered her arm and Mike lowered his. “I’m so sorry; I truly am,” she said. “Are you all right? Didn’t hurt you none, I hope,” she said, stretching an arm toward him.  
Mike moved out of her arm’s reach, “I’m okay,” he said. “You don’t fight like a girl. You can really hit!” he said, rubbing his chest and his legs. “I came to tell you to come in for something to eat,” he said, gesturing towards the open door.  
“Oh…” said Hannah, bringing her hands to her cheeks.  
Mike turned and walked to the kitchen door, rubbing his sore chest. When he reached it, he stopped and looked around.   
Hannah was still standing by the shed.   
He beckoned her closer and slowly she approached, her footsteps slowing as she drew near. Mike beckoned her again. “It’s okay,” he mouthed, urging her closer.   
She reached the wooden porch and stopped, her eyes fixed on his. “It’s okay; everything’s fine,” he said.  
She moved closer and stood in the square of light from the doorway. She was a little taller than him but scrawnier. He touched her elbow. “It’s okay,” he repeated, gently ushering her inside.  
Once inside they stood together and looked at Nolos Gweh, “This is Hannah, Nolos. Hannah Leigh. She’s the girl I told you about.” He looked from Nolos Gweh to Hannah, who was clutching her hands in front of her chest. In all the excitement he hadn’t noticed it before, but now in the light, he could see she was covered in mud.  
“Hello, Hannah,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike turned to Hannah. “This is my guardian, Nolos Gweh.”  
Hannah, her head bowed, swiveled her eyes upward. She looked out from under her bangs, her eyes shining in her mud-spattered face. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” she said, her words barely audible.  
“Please, Hannah, do come in and sit down. You look as though you’ve been through a trying time,” said Nolos Gweh, motioning her to sit in Mike’s chair at the table. “Mike, is there some food for our guest?”  
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and rushed forward to push his half-full plate towards Hannah.  
Hannah did not move. Instead, she sat, nervously looking from Nolos-Gweh to Mike, as if waiting for instructions.  
“I’m afraid there’s nothing else ready to eat. Please, there’s no need to stand on ceremony,” said Nolos-Gweh, gesturing to Mike’s plate.  
Hannah nodded, “Thank you, Ma’am,” she whispered and Mike heard her murmur a quick grace. Soon she was wolfing down the food, following each mouthful with large gulps of milk. Between bites and gulps she glanced at Nolos-Gweh and Mike, looking on in silence.  
When she finished, she sat up.  
Mike pointed to his upper lip, and then at Hannah. “You’ve got a milk moustache,” he said.  
“Oh… said Hannah, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.  
“Well, Hannah, Mike told me some of your story. Would you like to tell us the rest?” Nolos-Gweh asked.  
Her face flushed with the sudden ingestion of food, sweat glistened on Hannah’s forehead. She glanced at Mike for support.  
“Where are you from, Hannah? You’re not from around here, are you?” said Mike.  
“Well…” said Hannah, taking in a big breath, “we don’t have a home no more. But when we did, it was in Frog Creek...Frog Creek, Mississippi. But it was stolen from Pappy and me.”  
“I’m sorry to hear that, Hannah. How did you and your pappy lose your home?”  
“Well, it were because Julius borrowed Pappy’s plow.”  
“Who’s he?” said Mike.  
“Julius Ryder? He’s Aurelia’s uncle—she’s my best friend. And wouldn’t you know, didn’t someone steal his plow. Now, you can’t get the crop in with no plow. But Pappy reckoned it weren’t stolen; it were just DeForrest doing some of his dirty business. Pappy don’t abide with the way he tries to control folks—” Hannah paused. “And seeing as how we got all our plowing done already, Pappy gave Julius a loan of our plow.”  
“I don’t get it,” said Mike.  
“Don’t worry, Mike. I’m sure it will become clear soon,” said Nolos-Gweh. “Go on, Hannah.”  
“Well, Sheriff Bullfein got real mad when he found out what Pappy did. He told Pappy that he shouldn’t go poking his nose and interfering in other folk’s affairs. He said that he was gonna teach Pappy a lesson. He was going to teach him about which neighbors to help and which ones to leave to themselves.”  
“This Mr. Ryder, I take it that he’s your neighbor?” Nolos-Gweh asked.  
Hannah nodded. “He’s next farm over, sharecropping on DeForrest land like Pappy and me.”  
“And Sheriff Bullfein?” continued Nolos-Gweh.  
“He’s the sheriff in Frog Creek. Pappy says he’s bought and paid for by DeForrest so we needn’t go looking for him to put anything to rights.”  
“Oh, I see.” Nolos-Gweh looked from Hannah to Mike. “Go on, Hannah, then what happened?”  
“So right after he got all the seed planted, DeForrest said he was wanting paying for all the seed he gave on credit to Julius. And he got the sheriff to bring ole Julius before the justice of the peace. But seeing as how he just planted his crop, he couldn’t give the seed back and seeing he had no money to pay, he ended up in jail.”  
“That’s not fair,” said Mike.  
“Pappy was right. It was all DeForrest’s doing. Now Julius is doing convict lease, taking in the crop he borrowed the seed money for.” Hannah buried her face in her hands, sobbing. “It’s just like what happened to Pappy.”  
Mike looked at Nolos-Gweh.  
Nolos-Gweh motioned him to stay silent.  
After a few moments, Hannah’s sobbing slowed and finally stopped. She wiped her eyes, smearing her mud spattered face.  
Mike went to the blue-and-white enameled kitchen stove, where a hand towel hung from a rail on the oven door. He grabbed it and handed it to Hanna. “You’ve got some mud on your face,” he said.  
“Would you like to clean up?” Nolos-Gweh asked.   
Hannah nodded, “Yes, please Ma’am.”  
Nolos-Gweh pointed to a wooden washstand beside the kitchen door with a white marble top and a large mirror back-stand.   
“There’s soap in the top drawer,” said Mike, moving to the washstand. Opening the drawer, he pulled a bar of soap out, “There you go, Hannah,” he said, placing it by a white basin, with a matching pitcher, on top of the washstand.  
“Thank you, Mike,” said Hannah.  
“Mrs. Peyton always keeps a kettle of water warming on the stove, I’ll get some for you,” said Mike. He opened a cupboard door on the dresser and retrieved a towel. Wrapping it around the kettle handle, he poured some water into a washbasin on the dresser. “All set,” he said.  
Hannah looked in the mirror. “I sure look a sight all covered in mud like this,” she said. “I sure am sorry, Ma’am.”  
“It’s okay, Hannah,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike watched as Hannah took the soap, and after quickly working up a sudsy lather, washed her face.  
Finally, when the water in the basin was a muddy brown, she toweled herself dry and looked in the mirror. “Thank y’all, I feel like a girl again,” she said, drawing her fingers through her hair and tying it back.  
“Feeling better now?” said Nolos-Gweh.  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
“You were telling us about how your pappy went to jail,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Hannah nodded, and returning to the table, sat down. She looked at Mike and Nolos-Gweh. “Well, Pappy and me were taking a shortcut along the railroad tracks back to the house, like we do most days, when suddenly, the sheriff and his two deputies stepped out from behind a bush and told Pappy he was arresting him because he owed DeForrest—but, it were a downright lie. Pappy never owed DeForrest anything. You’ve got to believe me,” she said, glancing from Nolos-Gweh to Mike and back again.  
“It’s all right, Hannah; we’ve no reason not to believe you. Please go on. Then what happened?”  
“The sheriff said he was arresting Pappy anyway to teach him a lesson. That’s when Pappy shooed me away and told me to go on home.” She paused and stared off into some distant memory, as if reliving the moment. “But I hid nearby. Pappy knew I was there and he kept looking in my direction, even when they were beating him. I knew—the way he looked at me, that he wanted me to stay hidden. She looked at Nolos-Gweh and Mike, “It’s the truth...honest,” she said, two wide streams of tears glistening on her face.   
“We believe you, don’t we, Nolos?” said Mike.  
“Just take your time, Hannah. What happened next?” Nolos-Gweh asked.  
“The sheriff put Pappy in jail.” Hannah breathed a big sigh. “It weren’t too long after that, I found out Pappy and Julius were all chained together, doing convict work for DeForrest.”   
“What made you travel all the way to Lewiston?” Nolos-Gweh asked.  
“They let me see Pappy just before they took him away. He said, ‘This ain’t no place to be on my own.’ And I was to take the rainy-day money hidden under the floorboard near the washtub and to get a-running. He told me to remember the stories about how his pappy, my big pappy, was part of the Underground Railway, helping runaways to cross Jordan River.” Hannah sniffed, and straightened, “That it was better for me to act like a grown up and to do the same. So I did. I came north.”  
“There isn’t any Jordan River around here,” said Mike.  
Nolos-Gweh turned to him, “It was code talk used by slaves so their masters wouldn’t know they were planning an escape. Because if they were found out, they would be punished. Crossing Jordon, meant crossing over a river, like the Niagara or Ohio, to freedom”  
“Slaves?” said Mike.  
“It seems Hannah’s grandfather was part of the Underground Railroad, helping runaway slaves to escape. Lewiston was one of the last stops on their way to freedom,” said Nolos-Gweh. “Go on, Hannah.”  
Hannah nodded. “Pappy schooled me at home after Momma passed. He taught me reading, writing, arithmetic, and about history too. So I knew all about the freedom trail and how it would take me to my kinfolk in Canada and how to follow the bright star near the Big Dipper.”  
“The polestar,” Nolos-Gweh exclaimed. “How simple.”  
“He said I should find Uncle Stuart in Toronto, Canada. But, I spent all the money to get here, so I was trying to sneak onto the ferry when that man found me. He said he was going to hand me over to the police, and I took off running.” She looked at Mike, “That’s when Mike and Charlie helped me. The man sure was angry.”  
“Yeah, especially after he ended up in the river,” said Mike. “We couldn’t let him catch you.” He turned to Nolos-Gweh. “He also grabbed me, but then Hannah bit his arm to make him let me go.”  
Nolos-Gweh looked surprised and for a moment, no one spoke. Then Hannah yawned.  
“Well, it’s getting late now; tomorrow we’ll talk some more so we can get to the bottom of this,” said Nolos Gweh. “Right now you both should get some rest. You can sleep in my bed tonight, Hannah.”  
“I’ll help with the dishes,” Mike volunteered.  
“It’s okay, Mike. You show Hannah where to sleep,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike led Hannah upstairs to his bedroom. “You can sleep here,” he said, pointing to his own bed.  
“I’m truly obliged, Mike,” she said wearily.  
Mike backed out of the room. “That’s okay, I hope you sleep well,” he said and pulled the door closed.  
He made his way downstairs to the kitchen and when he entered, Nolos-Gweh had already put away the dishes. “I told Hannah she could sleep in my bed.”  
Nolos-Gweh smiled. “Oh …”  
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’ll camp on the floor.”  
“You sure?”  
Mike nodded. “Yeah, no problem, I know what it feels like to be alone.”


	11. Hannah

Two weekends later, while fishing with Charlie on the Niagara River, Mike heard a ferry horn blasting out its departure. Reeling in his fishing line, he looked upriver. “Chippawa’s leaving,” he said, watching the gap between the jetty and ferry grow wider.   
The mooring lines trailed through the water and were sucked up, like spaghetti, through the ferry’s fairleads. Charlie looked up. “Must be five o’clock, I’ve got to be home in half an hour.”  
“How many did we catch?” said Mike.  
“We?” said Charlie mockingly. “Well...we...caught three and a quarter, if you count the minnow you caught,” he said and laughed.  
“I thought you threw it back?”  
“I did”—Charlie smiled—“but a catch is still a catch.”  
Mike laughed and looked away. Upstream another ferry was taking on more passengers for Toronto and he cast out his line onto the water again. Moments later, something tugged on his fishing line. “I got a bite!” he yelled, jerking the fishing pole upward. The line slackened. “It got away.”  
“Another one? Like I told you, you have to let them take the bait first,” said Charlie, as the Chippawa glided by, its paddlewheels thrashing through the water.  
Mike heard the Chippawa’s engines pulsing and watched its beam on the top deck teeter-tottering, pounding up and down, keeping time.  
A fish rippled the surface and Mike cast a line into the center. “I can hardly wait for school to start. I’ve never done home school before. Nolos-Gweh will make a great teacher. How about you, Charlie? You looking forward to school?”  
Charlie looked at him, his fishing line clenched in his teeth as he tried to sort out a tangle of knots. “No way, I prefer fishing, but I don’t have a choice. Mom says that”—he gripped another knot in his teeth—“It’s either Nolos Gweh or boarding school.”  
“What’s wrong with boarding school? It could be fun.”  
“That’s not what I heard.” Charlie pulled on a long piece of fishing line, the last piece of the puzzle, unraveling the knot. He turned to Mike. “I know a kid named John who went to boarding school, and it’ll be a long time before he’s back—if he ever gets back,” he said, casting the tangle-free line back into the river.  
“Never?” said Mike.  
“Nope, not till he’s sixteen at least. That’s if he’s lucky and doesn’t get sick, like Cecelia,” Charlie paused to let the facts sink in. “Her ma and pa got a letter saying she took ill with the flu and died.”  
Mike felt his throat tighten. “That’s what happened to Pa,” he said. “I miss him—I miss him a lot.”  
“I know, Mike. You’re like me now, an orphan”  
“You’ve got a mom and dad,” Mike countered.  
“They’re not my real parents. George is really my uncle. When I was a baby, I became an orphan and they pretended I was theirs. Well, Ma’s really,” said Charlie.  
“How come?” said Mike.  
“To stop me from being sent to boarding school with the other Tuscarora kids. And they have to keep on pretending I’m theirs”—Charlie lowered his voice—“or they’ll get into a lot of trouble if they’re found out.”  
“I knew you were Tuscarora...but, wow, I didn’t know all that.”  
“Hardly anyone knows, and you can’t tell anyone about it either. You promise?”  
“I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die,” said Mike, drawing his thumb across his chest. “Your ma’s working full-time for Nolos-Gweh, right?”  
“Well Ma say that it feels like full-time with what Nolos-Gweh is paying her. But really, it’s just part-time. Even so, Pa was able to quit delivering coal.” Charlie grabbed the bag of fish. “We best get home; Ma will want to cook these for supper.”  
Mike looked upriver, beyond a rocky stretch of river bank, at the stern of another ferry tied up to the quay. Scrambling across the rocks, coming towards them, he spotted a young girl waving agitatedly at them. Mike and Charlie looked at each other.  
The girl drew closer, “Help me—please help me,” she pleaded and she glanced back at a crewman from the ferry, chasing her.  
“Stop her! Stop that girl,” cried the crewman.  
The girl flitted from rock to rock. The crewman, matching her every move, did the same as he closed in on her with an arm outstretched, his fingers barely inches from her. The girl glanced back again and saw the crewman lunge at her. She screamed and ducked out of reach, zigzagging to throw him off.  
The crewman lunged again to grab her.  
She zigged to her right.  
He zagged to his left. “Aaagh,” he wailed, grasping a handful of air and losing his balance. Arms flailing, he hit the water and disappeared under the surface, leaving his cap floating on top.  
Laughing, Mike and Charlie pointed to the cap as the crewman resurfaced and stood up, chest-deep in the water, fuming. Grabbing his soggy hat, he stuck it on his head, and shook his fist, “I’ll get you, missy, if it’s the last thing I do!” he shouted.  
The girl didn’t slow as she closed on Mike and Charlie. “Please...please help me,” she said.   
Mike looked past the girl at the crewman wading ashore.  
“You boys, don’t let her go,” the crewman yelled, clambering onto the rocky shore.  
Charlie looked at Mike. “We can’t just leave her.”  
“And we can’t get involved with no police investigation. That’s the last thing we need,” replied Mike, looking around “Let’s get back through the hole in the wall.”  
Charlie didn’t hesitate. He scampered across the rocks, heading downriver toward a small opening at the base of a high stone wall.  
Mike looked at the girl. “Come on,” he shouted, gesturing to her. The girl raced past. He looked at the crewman, then picked up his fishing pole, turned, and ran after the girl, across the rocky shoreline.  
A hundred yards downstream, Charlie, the bag of fish swinging wildly in one hand and his fishing pole in the other, neared the opening in the wall. He threw the fish and his fishing pole through the opening and crouching down on all fours, scurried in after them. Once inside, he turned and poked his head out. “Hurry, he’s catching up!” he shouted.  
The girl reached the wall and crawled through the opening just as Mike reached it. “Grab my fishing pole,” he yelled, almost hitting Charlie in the face.  
Charlie took the pole and whipped it through as the girl pulled her legs in and the sound of the crewman’s boots stomping on the rocks grew louder. Moving as fast as he could, Mike scrambled on all fours, to get through the opening and heard the sound of the crewman’s heavy stomping boots come to a crunching stop. He was close—too close for comfort.   
Mike rolled onto his back and tucked his legs in. But too late, he looked down and saw a wet hand clamp tight around his ankle and pull hard. Instinctively, he braced his free leg against the wall and strained to hold on.  
“Mike—” said Charlie, grabbing his arms to stop him from sliding back.   
But it was no good; the crewman was too strong. Slowly Mike began to slide inexorably through the opening as the pain in his leg grew stronger, he couldn’t hold on, he would have to let go, it was only a matter of time.   
He looked down and saw the triumphant look on the crewman’s face. “Gotcha. You ain’t going nowhere, sonny. I’m gonna teach you a lesson you’re never going to forget.”  
Wham! Out of nowhere, a fishing pole came down hard on the crewman’s wrist.  
“Yeow!” yelled the crewman and Mike felt the crewman’s grip slacken for a moment.   
He looked up. The girl was standing to one side of the opening with his fishing pole in her hand. She raised it and brought it crashing down on the crewman’s hand again. “Get your filthy...stinking...hands...off...him,” she said, raining down blows with each word.  
But the crewman held on. Charlie pulled on Mike who fought against the pain intensifying in his leg, “Aagh,” uttered Mike and giving one last effort, strained to pull free.   
Quick as lightning, the girl dropped to her knees, and grabbing the crewman’s arm, bit into it.  
“Ow!” he yelled, pulling his hand back.  
Mike was free. He scrambled, crablike, away from the hole as fast as he could, helped on by Charlie and the girl. The crewman lunged back through the opening, stretching in as far as his frame and reached to grab Mike’s leg again.  
Mike pulled back even farther and looked at the crewman’s hand barely inches from his feet. “I’ll get you for this!” the crewman shouted.  
“Yeah,” said Charlie, “You’ll have to catch us first.”  
“Move,” said Mike. He got to his feet and leading the way, headed through the back alleyways and gardens of his new neighborhood, dodging, weaving, and climbing over fences until he came to a low gap in a hedge. “Through there,” he said. “You can’t see it from here, but this is the back of my new home.”  
“That was too close,” said Charlie, unable to resist a nervous laugh.  
“Yeah, it was,” said Mike, also laughing. He bent down and crawled under a clump of bushes, emerging on the other side behind their garden shed.  
Charlie came next. Then the girl poked her head through the opening. Mike gestured to her. “What are we going to do now?” he mouthed.  
Charlie shrugged.  
The girl stood up and beamed at them. Then, seeing that they had quizzical looks on their faces, her expression became serious. “I want to thank y’all for saving my hide back there. I don’t know what I would a done if you two fine gentlemen hadn’t taken a risk in helping me escape from that feller. You were really brave a-doing what you did”—she smiled—“me being a stranger round these here parts and all.”  
Mike stared, lost for words.  
“Well, we couldn’t let you get caught,” said Charlie.  
Mike came to his senses. “Who are you?” he asked.  
The girl smoothed down her dress and gulped. “Ain’t I terrible? Forgetting my manners an’ all.” She offered her hand to Mike. “I’m Hannah...Hannah Leigh...Pleased to meet you.”  
Slowly, Mike held out his hand and shook hers. “I’m...Mike,” he said. “This here’s my best friend, Charlie,” he added, nodding in Charlie’s direction.  
She turned from Mike to Charlie and reached to shake his hand, giving him a big smile. “Pleased to meet you, Charlie,” she said.   
“Yeah, pleased to meet you,” said Charlie.  
“You live around here?” said Mike, just as Mrs. Peyton opened the side door of the house. Mike spun around, to look at her. A wave of relief washed over him when he saw Mrs. Peyton turn away from them and head for the woodpile under the side porch.  
Mike spun around to Hannah, “Hide,” he said, pulling the shed door open and shoving her inside.  
A crash of buckets and garden implements resonated from the shed. Mrs. Peyton stopped and turned around and Mike felt his face flush. Look casual, he told himself.  
He placed a hand on the shed and leaned on it, nonchalantly looking at the ground. “What are you two up to?” asked Mrs. Peyton.  
“Hi, Ma,” said Charlie sheepishly.  
She looked quizzically at them. “Charlie?”  
“Nothing, Ma, just got back from fishing,” said Charlie.  
“Did you catch anything, Mike?” said Mrs. Peyton and he felt himself get awfully hot all of a sudden.  
Mike grinned sheepishly. “Catch? Oh you mean fish. Yeah, we did...catch fish…” he said, nodding his head. It felt so lame.  
Charlie looked at Mike and raised his eyes skyward. “We caught three, Ma,” he said, raising the bag of fish to show her.  
“Mmm…” uttered Mrs. Peyton, giving them the ‘I know you’re up to something look’. “Well, I need some firewood brought inside,” she said, tilting her head and gesturing to the stack of wood on the porch.  
“Of course, Mrs. Peyton. No problem,” said Mike.  
“Okay, Ma, we’ll stack it for you too,” Charlie added.  
She looked at Charlie. “We’ll have those fish for supper when we get home to your pa,” and shaking her head, stepped over the threshold to the kitchen.  
“That was close. Think she knows?” Mike asked.  
Charlie nodded. “She always knows.”  
“I’m hungry,” said Hannah.  
“Ssh,” hissed Charlie at the door. Raising his eyebrows, he wrinkled his forehead and looked at Mike.  
“Okay, we’ll bring something back for you,” Mike whispered to the door. “Just stay quiet and out of sight until I come back.” What have we gotten ourselves into? he thought.  
Together, Mike and Charlie collected some wood and carried it into the kitchen. “Boy that smells good,” said Mike. “I sure am hungry.”  
Mrs. Peyton put on her coat and headed for the front door. “Come on, Charlie,” she said, beckoning him. “It’s time we were off.”  
Charlie picked up the bag of fish. “See you tomorrow, Mike,” he said, casting a meaningful glance from Mike to the shed outside.  
“Yeah, tomorrow,” said Mike as he watched Charlie pull the door closed behind him.  
“Let’s eat,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike sat down opposite her and ate as fast as he could, glancing out at the garden shed between each hurried bite and drink.  
“You seem to be in a big hurry,” said Nolos-Gweh. “I’ve never seen you eat this fast before.”  
Mike flushed, and gulping down the food in his mouth, pushed the half-full plate away.  
Nolos-Gweh looked at the plate. “Not hungry?”  
“Not really,” said Mike, shaking his head. He cleared his throat, which seemed to be very dry all of a sudden. “Nolos?” he croaked.  
“Yes, Mike?”  
“I...I...” stuttered Mike, “well...you see…when Charlie and me were fishing, there was this girl being chased by a crewman from the ferry. He looked really mean. We had no choice; we had to help her, so—so I hid her.” It had come out all wrong, but now that the truth was out, he felt relieved.  
“Hid a girl, Mike?” said Nolos-Gweh, in mock surprise. “Where?”  
Mike pointed through the open kitchen door, to the weathered woodshed, now barely visible in the gathering dusk. “The garden shed—she was so frightened.” His voice grew quieter. “I didn’t know what else to do.”  
“Mmm, well…the woodshed’s no place for guests now, is it?” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike shook his head.  
“Well go on, then. Invite the young lady in,” she said with a wide smile.  
Mike raced to the kitchen door, swung it wide, and bounded through the darkness toward the shed. He grabbed the door handle and yanked it open.  
A red flash exploded in his eyes. Pain erupted in his shins and chest. “What—” He cried, raising his arms instinctively. He backed away, blinking, and caught glimpses of flailing arms and kicking legs. “It’s me. Mike,” he said.  
The barrage stopped.  
“Oh. Mike…I’m so sorry.” said Hannah, emerging from the shed, into the dim light, with one arm raised and glancing about, “I thought you were that horrible man from the ferry.” She lowered her arm and Mike lowered his. “I’m so sorry; I truly am,” she said. “Are you all right? Didn’t hurt you none, I hope,” she said, stretching an arm toward him.  
Mike moved out of her arm’s reach, “I’m okay,” he said. “You don’t fight like a girl. You can really hit!” he said, rubbing his chest and his legs. “I came to tell you to come in for something to eat,” he said, gesturing towards the open door.  
“Oh…” said Hannah, bringing her hands to her cheeks.  
Mike turned and walked to the kitchen door, rubbing his sore chest. When he reached it, he stopped and looked around.   
Hannah was still standing by the shed.   
He beckoned her closer and slowly she approached, her footsteps slowing as she drew near. Mike beckoned her again. “It’s okay,” he mouthed, urging her closer.   
She reached the wooden porch and stopped, her eyes fixed on his. “It’s okay; everything’s fine,” he said.  
She moved closer and stood in the square of light from the doorway. She was a little taller than him but scrawnier. He touched her elbow. “It’s okay,” he repeated, gently ushering her inside.  
Once inside they stood together and looked at Nolos Gweh, “This is Hannah, Nolos. Hannah Leigh. She’s the girl I told you about.” He looked from Nolos Gweh to Hannah, who was clutching her hands in front of her chest. In all the excitement he hadn’t noticed it before, but now in the light, he could see she was covered in mud.  
“Hello, Hannah,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike turned to Hannah. “This is my guardian, Nolos Gweh.”  
Hannah, her head bowed, swiveled her eyes upward. She looked out from under her bangs, her eyes shining in her mud-spattered face. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” she said, her words barely audible.  
“Please, Hannah, do come in and sit down. You look as though you’ve been through a trying time,” said Nolos Gweh, motioning her to sit in Mike’s chair at the table. “Mike, is there some food for our guest?”  
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and rushed forward to push his half-full plate towards Hannah.  
Hannah did not move. Instead, she sat, nervously looking from Nolos-Gweh to Mike, as if waiting for instructions.  
“I’m afraid there’s nothing else ready to eat. Please, there’s no need to stand on ceremony,” said Nolos-Gweh, gesturing to Mike’s plate.  
Hannah nodded, “Thank you, Ma’am,” she whispered and Mike heard her murmur a quick grace. Soon she was wolfing down the food, following each mouthful with large gulps of milk. Between bites and gulps she glanced at Nolos-Gweh and Mike, looking on in silence.  
When she finished, she sat up.  
Mike pointed to his upper lip, and then at Hannah. “You’ve got a milk moustache,” he said.  
“Oh… said Hannah, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.  
“Well, Hannah, Mike told me some of your story. Would you like to tell us the rest?” Nolos-Gweh asked.  
Her face flushed with the sudden ingestion of food, sweat glistened on Hannah’s forehead. She glanced at Mike for support.  
“Where are you from, Hannah? You’re not from around here, are you?” said Mike.  
“Well…” said Hannah, taking in a big breath, “we don’t have a home no more. But when we did, it was in Frog Creek...Frog Creek, Mississippi. But it was stolen from Pappy and me.”  
“I’m sorry to hear that, Hannah. How did you and your pappy lose your home?”  
“Well, it were because Julius borrowed Pappy’s plow.”  
“Who’s he?” said Mike.  
“Julius Ryder? He’s Aurelia’s uncle—she’s my best friend. And wouldn’t you know, didn’t someone steal his plow. Now, you can’t get the crop in with no plow. But Pappy reckoned it weren’t stolen; it were just DeForrest doing some of his dirty business. Pappy don’t abide with the way he tries to control folks—” Hannah paused. “And seeing as how we got all our plowing done already, Pappy gave Julius a loan of our plow.”  
“I don’t get it,” said Mike.  
“Don’t worry, Mike. I’m sure it will become clear soon,” said Nolos-Gweh. “Go on, Hannah.”  
“Well, Sheriff Bullfein got real mad when he found out what Pappy did. He told Pappy that he shouldn’t go poking his nose and interfering in other folk’s affairs. He said that he was gonna teach Pappy a lesson. He was going to teach him about which neighbors to help and which ones to leave to themselves.”  
“This Mr. Ryder, I take it that he’s your neighbor?” Nolos-Gweh asked.  
Hannah nodded. “He’s next farm over, sharecropping on DeForrest land like Pappy and me.”  
“And Sheriff Bullfein?” continued Nolos-Gweh.  
“He’s the sheriff in Frog Creek. Pappy says he’s bought and paid for by DeForrest so we needn’t go looking for him to put anything to rights.”  
“Oh, I see.” Nolos-Gweh looked from Hannah to Mike. “Go on, Hannah, then what happened?”  
“So right after he got all the seed planted, DeForrest said he was wanting paying for all the seed he gave on credit to Julius. And he got the sheriff to bring ole Julius before the justice of the peace. But seeing as how he just planted his crop, he couldn’t give the seed back and seeing he had no money to pay, he ended up in jail.”  
“That’s not fair,” said Mike.  
“Pappy was right. It was all DeForrest’s doing. Now Julius is doing convict lease, taking in the crop he borrowed the seed money for.” Hannah buried her face in her hands, sobbing. “It’s just like what happened to Pappy.”  
Mike looked at Nolos-Gweh.  
Nolos-Gweh motioned him to stay silent.  
After a few moments, Hannah’s sobbing slowed and finally stopped. She wiped her eyes, smearing her mud spattered face.  
Mike went to the blue-and-white enameled kitchen stove, where a hand towel hung from a rail on the oven door. He grabbed it and handed it to Hanna. “You’ve got some mud on your face,” he said.  
“Would you like to clean up?” Nolos-Gweh asked.   
Hannah nodded, “Yes, please Ma’am.”  
Nolos-Gweh pointed to a wooden washstand beside the kitchen door with a white marble top and a large mirror back-stand.   
“There’s soap in the top drawer,” said Mike, moving to the washstand. Opening the drawer, he pulled a bar of soap out, “There you go, Hannah,” he said, placing it by a white basin, with a matching pitcher, on top of the washstand.  
“Thank you, Mike,” said Hannah.  
“Mrs. Peyton always keeps a kettle of water warming on the stove, I’ll get some for you,” said Mike. He opened a cupboard door on the dresser and retrieved a towel. Wrapping it around the kettle handle, he poured some water into a washbasin on the dresser. “All set,” he said.  
Hannah looked in the mirror. “I sure look a sight all covered in mud like this,” she said. “I sure am sorry, Ma’am.”  
“It’s okay, Hannah,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike watched as Hannah took the soap, and after quickly working up a sudsy lather, washed her face.  
Finally, when the water in the basin was a muddy brown, she toweled herself dry and looked in the mirror. “Thank y’all, I feel like a girl again,” she said, drawing her fingers through her hair and tying it back.  
“Feeling better now?” said Nolos-Gweh.  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
“You were telling us about how your pappy went to jail,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Hannah nodded, and returning to the table, sat down. She looked at Mike and Nolos-Gweh. “Well, Pappy and me were taking a shortcut along the railroad tracks back to the house, like we do most days, when suddenly, the sheriff and his two deputies stepped out from behind a bush and told Pappy he was arresting him because he owed DeForrest—but, it were a downright lie. Pappy never owed DeForrest anything. You’ve got to believe me,” she said, glancing from Nolos-Gweh to Mike and back again.  
“It’s all right, Hannah; we’ve no reason not to believe you. Please go on. Then what happened?”  
“The sheriff said he was arresting Pappy anyway to teach him a lesson. That’s when Pappy shooed me away and told me to go on home.” She paused and stared off into some distant memory, as if reliving the moment. “But I hid nearby. Pappy knew I was there and he kept looking in my direction, even when they were beating him. I knew—the way he looked at me, that he wanted me to stay hidden. She looked at Nolos-Gweh and Mike, “It’s the truth...honest,” she said, two wide streams of tears glistening on her face.   
“We believe you, don’t we, Nolos?” said Mike.  
“Just take your time, Hannah. What happened next?” Nolos-Gweh asked.  
“The sheriff put Pappy in jail.” Hannah breathed a big sigh. “It weren’t too long after that, I found out Pappy and Julius were all chained together, doing convict work for DeForrest.”   
“What made you travel all the way to Lewiston?” Nolos-Gweh asked.  
“They let me see Pappy just before they took him away. He said, ‘This ain’t no place to be on my own.’ And I was to take the rainy-day money hidden under the floorboard near the washtub and to get a-running. He told me to remember the stories about how his pappy, my big pappy, was part of the Underground Railway, helping runaways to cross Jordan River.” Hannah sniffed, and straightened, “That it was better for me to act like a grown up and to do the same. So I did. I came north.”  
“There isn’t any Jordan River around here,” said Mike.  
Nolos-Gweh turned to him, “It was code talk used by slaves so their masters wouldn’t know they were planning an escape. Because if they were found out, they would be punished. Crossing Jordon, meant crossing over a river, like the Niagara or Ohio, to freedom”  
“Slaves?” said Mike.  
“It seems Hannah’s grandfather was part of the Underground Railroad, helping runaway slaves to escape. Lewiston was one of the last stops on their way to freedom,” said Nolos-Gweh. “Go on, Hannah.”  
Hannah nodded. “Pappy schooled me at home after Momma passed. He taught me reading, writing, arithmetic, and about history too. So I knew all about the freedom trail and how it would take me to my kinfolk in Canada and how to follow the bright star near the Big Dipper.”  
“The polestar,” Nolos-Gweh exclaimed. “How simple.”  
“He said I should find Uncle Stuart in Toronto, Canada. But, I spent all the money to get here, so I was trying to sneak onto the ferry when that man found me. He said he was going to hand me over to the police, and I took off running.” She looked at Mike, “That’s when Mike and Charlie helped me. The man sure was angry.”  
“Yeah, especially after he ended up in the river,” said Mike. “We couldn’t let him catch you.” He turned to Nolos-Gweh. “He also grabbed me, but then Hannah bit his arm to make him let me go.”  
Nolos-Gweh looked surprised and for a moment, no one spoke. Then Hannah yawned.  
“Well, it’s getting late now; tomorrow we’ll talk some more so we can get to the bottom of this,” said Nolos Gweh. “Right now you both should get some rest. You can sleep in my bed tonight, Hannah.”  
“I’ll help with the dishes,” Mike volunteered.  
“It’s okay, Mike. You show Hannah where to sleep,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike led Hannah upstairs to his bedroom. “You can sleep here,” he said, pointing to his own bed.  
“I’m truly obliged, Mike,” she said wearily.  
Mike backed out of the room. “That’s okay, I hope you sleep well,” he said and pulled the door closed.  
He made his way downstairs to the kitchen and when he entered, Nolos-Gweh had already put away the dishes. “I told Hannah she could sleep in my bed.”  
Nolos-Gweh smiled. “Oh …”  
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’ll camp on the floor.”  
“You sure?”  
Mike nodded. “Yeah, no problem, I know what it feels like to be alone.”


	12. First Flight

Next morning, Mike had no trouble getting up from the bedroll on the floor. So when he heard Nolos-Gweh descending the stairs to begin breakfast, he was already dressed.   
“Good morning, Mike,” she said.  
“Want me to call Hannah?” he said, setting out three places.  
“No, it’s better to let her sleep for now.”  
After breakfast, Mike looked at Hannah’s empty chair. “She must’ve been really tired.”   
“I believe that ‘exhausted’ would be a more apt description, Mike. She’s had quite the adventure.”  
“I guess so.” Mike paused. “Did you really mean you would try to help her?”  
“Yes.”  
“How?”  
“By finding out the truth. What we will do when we find it however is another thing. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, before Hannah wakes up, I would like to take you on another field trip. But first, I have to write a note to Mrs. Peyton to say we may be gone for a few hours.” Mike watched her write the note and lay it on the table. “Where are we going?” he asked.  
Nolos-Gweh walked to one of the front windows and parted the curtains. She pointed, through a downpour of rain, to a large structure across the street, “Up there,” she said.  
Mike looked through the rain-lashed window and saw where she was pointing. “You’re serious about Lewiston Academy, even though it’s been boarded up for years; there’s no way to get in,” he said, gesturing to the dilapidated structure.  
“Trust me, it will be fine. Ready?”  
Mike looked at her. “I’ll get my raincoat.”  
“There’s no need for a coat, we’ll use the trapdoor,” said Nolos-Gweh, raising her left arm and holding it over the trapdoor by the stairs.   
A thin line of light appeared between it and the surrounding floor. Mike walked over to get a closer look. After all the basements he’d been in, delivering coal with Charlie and his Pa, he thought he knew what to expect; a dusty stairs and in a small house like this, an earthen floor. The gap widened and trapdoor began to open. “How…” he said, and his jaw dropped.  
The trapdoor swung wider and light shone across the floor and swept over his brown boots. He looked at Nolos-Gweh, as it opened fully and leaned against the side of the stairs.  
Instead of a grimy staircase, was a gleaming set of stairs made of dark glass. Not only that but at the bottom of the stairs, was a flat, smooth, clay colored floor, as if the clay soil itself had been polished to a mirror finish.  
Mike stared incredulously, “You did this? How…” he began and paused, “When...” It was beginning to sound like a pointless question.  
“When you agreed to come and live with me. Now we can come and go to the academy as we please,” she said, stepping onto the top stair.  
Mike watched her descend to the basement. She turned and looked at him, “Coming?”   
Mike stepped onto the top of the glassy stairway and made his way down, gingerly. When his eyes were just below floor level, he saw her standing in the mouth of a long tunnel.  
“Keep coming,” she said.   
Mike stared at her, not knowing what to think. When he reached the bottom, he stepped on to the polished floor and looked along the tunnel.   
Angling steeply upward, he saw daylight pouring in through its glassy walls, flooding it and the basement with light. “Want to wager where it leads to?” she said.  
“The academy?” guessed Mike.  
“You’re catching on. Let’s go, but I warn you it can be unnerving,” she said and turning about, she began to climb the tunnel.  
Mike followed, and as he went, he trailed a finger along the tunnel’s side, “It feels just like the wall that surrounded us when we went down the well,” he said.  
“It is, Mike,” she replied.  
When they reached the daylight section, the tunnel seemed to disappear. Mike pressed his hand against its invisible surface and looked around. They were just above ground, outside their home. He looked up at the gray sky and at the rain splashed Center Street. “Hey, where’d the rain go?” he said, holding out his hand to the sky.  
“Well...people would find it peculiar to see raindrops motionless in midair on an invisible tunnel. Look at the pavement below.”  
Mike looked down. Below them, he saw shiny tram rails still being peppered with raindrops. “It’s like the rain passes right through the tunnel. Like it doesn’t exist.”  
“I promised you there would be much more to learn, didn’t I?” said Nolos-Gweh.  
A movement on his left drew his attention. Mike whipped about and froze. Coming right at them was a tram, its single light locked on its target—him. Speechless, he took in a sharp intake of breath and raised his arms to protect himself.  
The headlight loomed larger. “Aargh…” he wailed, wincing and snapping his eyes shut. He buried his face in his hands and waited for the impact.  
“It’s okay,” laughed Nolos-Gweh and Mike felt her tap him on the shoulder, “Open your eyes. Everything will be just fine.”  
Mike peeked through his fingers. They were passing through the tram, his head barely above the floor. He found it hard to stop wincing as feet and seat supports came at him. The tram stopped and he found himself nose to nose with a dog.  
Panting hard, the dog, its tongue lolling from its mouth, seemed unaware of his presence. “Can they see or hear us?” said Mike, gesturing to the passengers.  
“Thankfully no, Mike, otherwise they would be hyper excited to see a talking head sticking out of the floor,” replied Nolos-Gweh, who seemed to be stuck in the wall.  
Mike laughed. “How about dogs?” he said, craning his neck to put some distance between himself and the dog. Just then, the tram bell sounded and the dog came closer. Mike backed away, but the dog drew ever closer and then they were eyeball to eyeball, just before the dog moved through him. “That was so funny,” he said and turning around, watched the tram interior move away, followed by the back of the tram. The sensation of movement stopped, leaving him unsteady on his feet.  
He leaned against the wall of the tunnel to steady himself and a car honked.  
Mike whipped around, just in time to see the front grille of a car coming at him. It was so close, he had no time to react. Wide eyed, he stared as it went through him, followed by the radiator, the engine’s spinning cooling fan, the driver, seats and finally the rear bumper. He looked around, checking to see if there were more surprises. But it was clear. He turned to Nolos-Gweh, “I don’t think you were totally right when you said it could be unnerving,” he said.  
“Oh?”  
“No, not unnerving—terrifying,” he said, giving her a wry smile.  
They walked on, climbing ever higher. Mike looked back at their home to see how far they had come and saw two familiar figures. “Nolos...it’s Mrs. Peyton and Charlie,” he said.   
Below them, the two figures, their heads bowed against the rain, hurried towards Mike’s home. “We left the trapdoor open!”  
“Don’t worry. Everything will appear as it should when they arrive.”  
“What if they go down to the basement? Won’t they wonder where the tunnel came from?”  
“They will not be able to see the tunnel, the basement will look like it always has.”  
“Oh…okay” he said, and they walked on, higher and higher. Mike looked down. It was eerie to be walking through the air without visible support. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. “Sure is getting high,” he said, looking at the ground far below him.  
“Just keep looking at the observatory, Mike. Remember what I told you at Fort Niagara.”  
“Just keep looking up?”  
“Exactly,” said Nolos-Gweh. She reached back and held out her arm. “Here, take hold.”  
Holding on to her arm, he looked up at the roof of the academy and focused on a line of gulls perched along the roof ridge. They seemed to stare right at him. “You sure they can’t see us?”  
“The gulls?” she asked.  
“Yes.”  
“You know...I’m not really sure. They shouldn’t be able to, but sometimes, the way they stare, I wonder.”  
They were about halfway to the observatory when Mike glanced at the ground. It was a mistake. He gripped her arm tighter.  
“You will get used to heights after some training,” she said.  
“I sure hope so.”  
“Oh you will, you will,” and Mike could hear the laughter in her voice.  
They crossed over the edge of the roof, and Mike felt easier. Ahead he saw the end of the tunnel, a black wall. He opened his mouth to ask her how they were going to get past it, then he thought better of it. She knows what she’s doing.  
When they reached the wall, Mike let go of her arm. But Nolos-Gweh did not hesitate and Mike watched as she disappeared, in what was becoming a familiar encounter with amazement.  
A moment later, her disembodied head popped through the wall. “It might be easier if you rushed at it?” she said. She was smiling, of course.  
“Yes,” he said, taking a deep breath. He poked his foot through the wall and felt around for the observatory floor and bracing himself, rushed forward, expecting some resistance. There was none.  
Instead, he stumbled forward and fell flat-faced onto the floor. He looked up at Nolos-Gweh. “You’re really enjoying this,” he said. “That was even scarier than walking up here,” said Mike, picking himself up.  
He looked about the observatory. It was different from what he remembered. Instead of bird droppings and missing window panes, it was clean; not only that, but all its sixteen windows, around its eight sides, were intact.  
He moved to a window, “You can see everything from up here,” he said. He looked west, beyond the string of gulls to the Niagara River and the smoke plumes of some paddle steamers. “It’s just like in the nannax,” he said, turning to look north over fields and trees, still wet after the downpour, glistening in the sun. “Except for the rainbow. I didn’t see that in the nannax.”  
“It wasn’t raining then,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike continued to look around, and after a while Nolos-Gweh broke the silence. “When I arrived on this planet many years ago, my goal was to observe and document Earth’s progress without arousing human curiosity.” She paused and raised an eyebrow. “But how do you go about observing people without being seen?”  
Mike thought for a while. “Maybe you could dress like everyone else? Try to fit in.”  
“Yes, that is one way, but people are always curious—they notice strangers and things out of place. Any more ideas?”  
Mike shook his head. “What if…”  
“Yes…” she said.  
“Nothing,” said Mike.  
“Well the answer is both simple and complex. The simple part is to become part of the natural surroundings. But how does one achieve that?”  
“You could build a hideout, high up in a tree, and camouflage it,” said Mike.  
“That would only work in the summer when the trees have lots of leaves. Besides, it would leave you stuck in the same place. She waited a while for Mike to come up with other ideas. Finally, he shrugged.  
“Don’t know,” he said.  
“Well...that’s where the complexity sets in.”  
She moved to the window and stood alongside him. Together they looked over the line of gulls. “What if you”—she gestured to the gulls—“were to become a bird? People hardly ever notice them.”  
“How do you mean? Like an airplane only make its wings flap?”  
“Not exactly, what if you were a bird, or could combine with one?”  
“You mean a real bird?” said Mike, disbelievingly. The whole idea was so ludicrous. He looked from Nolos Gweh to the gulls and back again. She smiled and raised her eyebrow. Mike pointed at the gulls strung out in a line along the roof ridge, “Just like these?” he said, his disbelief fading. “Really?”  
She inclined her head, gesturing to the gulls, “really...in a manner of speaking.”  
Mike’s jaw dropped. He looked from the gulls to Nolos-Gweh.  
She nodded. “You noticed them when we came up here, but then quickly forgot all about them. They became part of your surroundings. No one else gives them much thought either,” she said.  
Mike glanced quickly at the birds. “Do we have to catch them?”  
“Not if you go about it in the right way,” said Nolos Gweh.  
“Do we have to go out...there?” Mike asked, pointing.  
“Yes, but not the way you imagine.”  
“Does it have to be gulls?”  
“No, pretty much any creature will do. But today, gulls will make an ideal subject for your lesson, and when it’s over, you’ll also appreciate their many qualities.”   
Mike looked at the disinterested gulls.  
“Including their flying abilities. The way they dive through the air or plunge underwater. Their keen eyesight. In fact when you consider their agility, they are quite the marvel,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
“This is for you,” she said, holding out her hand. On it was a shiny ring, as big as a saucer, with strange symbols etched on it and two pea-size spheres strung side-by-side.  
He took it, “Thank you,” he said, with a puzzled look. “Hey, it lights up,” he said, holding it up to show her, as the strange symbols glowed. “What is it?”  
“Ready for another new word?” she said and Mike nodded.  
“It’s an eniaf.”   
“What’s it for?”  
“When you wear it around your neck, it will enhance your abilities and you’ll be able to do much more than you ever thought possible or imagined.”  
Perplexed, he placed the ring on his head and looked at her. “It’s too small,” he said pointing to the ring on his head, where it sat like a fallen halo. “See.”  
Taking the eniaf from Mike’s head, Nolos-Gweh pointed at two pea shaped spheres, strung together on the ring. “Just separate these two and move each of them around to cover these symbols,” she said, indicating two identical marks, located halfway around the ring from each other.   
Mike pinched each little ball between thumb and forefinger and pulled them apart. He watched incredulously as part of the ring between the spheres disappeared, opening a gap large enough to put his neck through.  
“Now put it around your neck and bring the spheres together again,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
With the eniaf draped around his neck, Mike brought the spheres together, and the ring became whole again. “Now move the spheres around to the back of your neck, just near the top of your spine.”  
Mike spun the ring around, “It feels warm,” he said.  
“Good, now you’re ready for that lesson I spoke about. I want you to trust me. But, I must warn you, this lesson may be the most unnerving one yet. Okay?”  
Mike thought of all she had shown him so far and nodded eagerly, “I can hardly wait.”  
“Now close your eyes and relax,” she said.  
Closing his eyes, Mike wondered what the next adventure would be like.  
“I want you to imagine that you are a gull.”  
“Huh?” said Mike and he opened his eyes.   
“I want you to imagine how it would feel if you were a gull,” she repeated.  
The sun emerged from behind a cloud and sunlight flooded through the observatory’s mullioned windows. Squinting against the glare, Mike pointed to the roof ridge and its array of gulls. “You mean like one of these?”   
“Remember how you were able to open the log with your mind? And how you were able to get out of the armor with the power of your mind?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“With the eniaf, you’ll be able to do so much more. Believe in yourself.”  
“O...kay,” he said, closing his eyes. “Here goes, I’m...a…gull.” He felt stupid and opened his eyes again. “You’re sure about this?”  
“Quite sure.”  
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again and repeated, “I am a gull. I am a gull. I am a gull. I am a gull....” over and over.  
Two minutes later, which seemed more like forever, he opened his eyes and looked at Nolos-Gweh.  
She was standing by a window, watching him. “It takes practice, keep trying,” she said.  
Once more, he closed his eyes, this time even tighter than before. “I’m a gull, I’m a gull, I’m a gull…” he began, his voice low. Ten minutes later he squinted through one eye. Everything was still the same.  
Frustrated, he looked at Nolos-Gweh pleadingly. But she did not say anything, instead she just tilted her head to one side, as if to say, ‘really’.  
“I know...keep trying,” he said.  
Two hours went by. He tried everything he could think of: changing speed, raising his voice, lowering his voice, changing the phrase, emphasizing different words. In desperation, he raised and lowered his voice, in a sing-song tone.  
Finally, he gave up. “This is never going to work,” he blurted.  
Nolos-Gweh looked him in the eye. “Go back to those other times when you found a way. Do you think that was just coincidence? No. That was you. All you have to do is believe in yourself.”   
“But…”  
“Once more,” she said.  
Mike felt drained. Here goes nothing, he thought, closing his eyes and resigning himself to letting events play out as they may. He thought of how it would feel to fly like a bird and imagined the gulls and how they spiraled upward in the summer, their wings barely moving as they made subtle changes and soared ever higher.  
Dreamlike, he reveled in the sheer joy of how it must feel to be free to fly. He spread his arms in mock flight, just like he did when he pretended to be an airplane pilot. He tilted his arms this way and that, banking left and right imaging the warm sunshine as he twisted and turned. It felt good.  
After a while he opened his eyes to its glare and looked at the observatory windows—from the outside.  
“Yeow!” he yelled as a gull shrieked.  
Below him, the blue-gray slate roof of Lewiston Academy fell away to the precipice just beyond the eaves. He flapped his arms trying to catch his balance.  
“Whoa!” he cried, teetering backward and forward, scrambling, trying to grasp the ridge.  
But too late, he watched the roof slide upward and felt his nose bump from roof tile to roof tile and knew the roof’s edge couldn’t be much farther.  
Frantically he clawed at the roof and looked about for handholds. He felt his feet go over the edge and catch on the roof’s metal gutter, stopping his downward slide. Nolos, where are you? he wanted to shout, but all he heard was a gull shrieking again.   
He heard, no, imagined her voice. “No need to make your symbiotic host shriek by shouting, I’m right behind you. Okay?   
“Okay…you can’t be serious? I’m hanging on the edge of this roof and I’m about to fall off,” he insisted.  
“I know it must sound strange right now, but you have to trust me; everything’s going to be okay. Now…turn around...slowly.”  
“Okay,” he replied, a nervous tremble in his throat. He took a deep breath, and pushing beyond his fear, started to turn.   
Something got in the way. He tried again, without success. No panic, he reminded himself. Craning his neck, his chin flat against the roof, he began to turn around. And as he did, he heard a scraping noise. Must be the straps of my overalls.   
He tried again, this time with more success. Made it, he thought, expecting to see Nolos-Gweh. Instead, he found himself face to face with a sleek gull. A gull who did not seem at all intimidated by their close proximity.  
Then it moved closer, barely an inch away. “It’s me, Mike. I have symbiotised with this gull, just like you have with yours.”  
Mike shook his head and saw yellow flash in front of his face. He stared at the gull again. “This can’t be real. I must have fallen off the roof. Maybe I did; maybe I’m dead.’  
“Oh, but it can, Mike. Take a look at your arms.”  
Mike looked sidelong at his left arm. Instead of his checkered shirtsleeve, he found himself looking along smooth sleek gray plumage stretching all the way to where his fingers should be. Casting his eyes down he made to look down at his shirt front, but his nose got in the way. It scraped on the roof. Lifting his head from the roof, he looked cross-eyed at his nose.   
It was so long and so...yellow? It can’t be yellow? he thought, shaking his head from side to side as a scrape, scrape, scrape scratching sound, like finger nails on a chalkboard, reverberated in his head. The truth crashed home, “It’s a beak. I’m a gull.”  
Shocked, he pushed off the roof to a standing position. His eyesight was so sharp, everything was crystal clear, even the ground far below him. Confused, he staggered and his leg missed the rain gutter. With arms and legs flailing wildly, he heard his nails scrape the metal as he tried to gain a foothold on the gutter and regain his balance.  
He missed and toppled backwards. Down, he fell. The ground loomed up as the windows of the academy went by, and in the dark glass of each floor’s window, he caught the fleeting reflection of a gull, flapping chaotically.  
Terror overwhelmed him and yet time seemed to slow. “Argh!” he screamed and heard the raucous call of a gull screech in his head. Then closing his eyes, he waited for the impact—his doom.  
The sickening feeling gave way to the strange sensation of his arms being lifted up and the pull of something drawing him higher and higher. He opened his eyes. Below him the ground was receding. “I’m dead—definitely–dead.”  
He thought he heard Nolos-Gweh—and she seemed to be laughing. “You’re not dead—”:  
“I’m not?”  
“— you’re in the gull—“  
“I am?”  
“—and you can fly. You’re just like a bird.  
“I can?” he looked down at the ground, silently slipping by and thought his heart would burst with excitement. “I’m flying!” he yelled at the top of his voice and heard the gull screech in his ears once more.  
Which way, he thought, wanting to go everywhere at once, up, down, left and right.  
The gull responded, rolling, pitching, banking, and bucking all over the sky. “Just pick one destination at a time, Mike.”  
“Oh, okay.”   
Overhead, a pair of turkey vultures were spiraling upwards, pirouetting in a thermal, soaring effortlessly. He flew under them and felt the updraft take hold, lifting him higher in a swirling dance.  
“You’re doing great, Mike. I’m just off your right wing.”  
He looked across and saw another gull almost level with him. “How come we can hear each other?”   
“It’s called telecting,” replied Nolos-Gweh.  
“This is amazing,” He telected. He looked beyond her and saw the Brock Monument on the Canadian side of the river.  
Then he looked down and saw the Niagara River six hundred feet below, turquoise green with streaks of foam, churned white as its water crashed over submerged rocks. And a sudden urge to sweep down and fly just above the rapids filled him.   
The gull obeyed, and flipping on its back, plunged headlong toward the water below. Mike stared wide-eyed at the onrushing water and the wind whistled in his ears. Closing his eyes, he readied himself for the icy plunge into the river. Instead, he felt a force that seemed to want to push his arms behind his back, and he opened his eyes. The gull was levelling out.  
He heard Nolos-Gweh’s voice again. “Very good, Mike,” she said. “Let’s head for the Falls.” Together they continued to fly upriver, staying low, just skimming the turbulent waters.  
“Wahoo!” yelled Mike. “This is too much,” and he could not resist skimming the surface and tracing a wingtip on it. He looked to his other wing and glimpsed the Great Gorge Route tram trundling along the base of the canyon wall on his left.  
He wanted to get closer and the gull obliged. It banked and flapping its wings, closed the distance easily. Then flying alongside, it kept pace with the leisurely tram. He was so close, that some passengers reached to touch him. One even took out a camera and held it to her eye to photograph the strange bird. Mike looked back at her and laughed to himself.  
“Look out, Mike!” telected Nolos-Gweh. Mike spun his head around to see a giant sentinel rock, jutting skyward by the side of the tracks, directly in front of him. The gull swerved, and Mike felt his left wing brush against grass growing on the rock. “That was close.”  
“Much too close,” came Nolos-Gweh’s reply.  
Mike looked up, she was flying about one hundred feet above him. He wanted to fly alongside her and the gull flapped strenuously to gain altitude. Moments later they were level. “Stay close for now, Mike.”  
They headed south, upriver. On his left, he saw the Swartzkoft generating station. “That’s where Dad worked” he telected as they overhead and looked down.  
Ahead, he saw a plume of water vapor rise above Niagara Falls. They flew on and soon heard its muffled roar. He dropped down, low over the falls and its roar grew thunderous and pulsated in his ears.  
Beyond the tower of spray, over rock worn down by thousands of years of grinding and polishing, the water flowed faster. Smooth and glossy, it reflected the blue sky above. He swooped low over it, catching his own reflection, mesmerized by the spectacle.Feeling exhilarated, he turned to make a lower pass, maybe even skim the water.   
“No, Mi—” was all he heard. But it was enough to hear fear in Nolos-Gweh’s voice as his reflection disappeared and everything went white.  
He felt himself fall, caught in the cascading water. It pounded hard against his body, turning and twisting him this way and that, but always inexorably down to the rocks below.  
I have to get out of here. Then, unsure if he imagined it or not, he heard a voice—a voice just like Nolos Gweh’s—‘trust the gull’.  
Forcing himself to let go of his fears, he closed his eyes and surrendered to the gull’s instincts. A moment later, the pounding from the water eased and its thunderous sound receded to a muffled roar.  
When he opened his eyes, mist gave way to brilliant sunshine. The gull had broken free from the falls— and not a moment too soon. Barely inches below, splintered rock poked skyward like skewers The gull flared its wings and glided over them, then flapping them briskly, eased itself onto the surface of rapids.  
Mike felt breathless; he gulped and looked around.  
Nearby, Nolos-Gweh settled onto the surface, “I’m glad you’re safe, Mike. I must admit that I feared the worst when you disappeared. But you showed great courage by trusting your gull. Well done.”  
“It all happened so fast,” he replied and took a moment to regain his composure.   
“Let’s just rest for now. I think we both had quite a scare,” said Nolos-Gweh. “I think it’s time for us to get back to Hannah.”  
“Oh, Hannah, yes—I forgot all about her.”  
The gulls flapped their wings and taking to the air, climbed steeply towards the rim of the canyon, banked and gliding gracefully, crossed the edge of the escarpment.  
Below them, Lewiston and its academy were bathed in sunshine. “I suggest we land near the back of the academy buildings,” telected Nolos-Gweh.  
The gulls angled down, their wings barely flicking as they glided in a wide sweep towards an overgrown grassy patch at the back of the derelict building, and circled in a tight hover for a moment, before dropping vertically. Then flapping rapidly once more, to slow their descent, touched down.  
“Now, imagine you are a boy once more, Mike,” and instantly, he felt taller.   
She was standing alongside him. “Bye, thanks for the ride,” he said to his gull, as it took to the air.   
“Well done, Mike. You did very well for your first symbiosis.”  
“Another word, I have to remember,” he replied, laughingly.  
Nolos-Gweh smiled. “Well, this is one from your world, and it means to coexist with another. Does that make sense?”  
“Are you sure that this symbiosis, is one of our words?”  
She nodded, “Unlike telecting, which is not.”  
“It was great to be able to talk with you like that. I never expected it.” He looked up at her. “Is there anything you can’t do?” he asked.  
“Oh, that wasn’t just me. Your mind was enhanced by the eniaf and you telected as well.”  
“I forgot I even had it on,” he said, and reaching up, he spun it about his neck. “I’d better give it back,” he continued, separating the spheres.  
“No need to, Mike. It’s yours now. It’s a training tool, and you will be needing it—at least at the beginning. In time, you’ll be able to do just as well without it.”  
“Great, thanks,” he said. I can’t wait to fly again, he thought, putting the eniaf around his neck again. He looked at Nolos Gweh, and wondered if she could read his thoughts “Did you know what I was just thinking?” he said, “I mean can you read my mind.”  
“That would be rude, an invasion of privacy—and wrong. We must respect the privacy of others and the powers you will develop over time must be used with great care. They must be used wisely or you will become a slave to them, understand?”  
“I think so.”  
“For now, just enjoy them. There will be time enough later to put them to use,” and smiling, she turned and made her way to the front of the Academy’s main building and Center Street, followed by Mike.


	13. Investigation

Crossing Center Street, Mike realized it had been a while since he’d eaten. “I hope Mrs. Peyton has some food ready. I’m starved,” he said.  
They stepped onto their porch and Nolos-Gweh opened the front door. Inside, they were greeted by Captain Jack and the aroma of cooking. “Ahhh...that smells good,” said Mike, bending down and picking up his cat.  
“Lunch is ready,” said Hannah, setting two plates of food on the table.  
Surprised, Mike stared at her. “You cooked this?” he asked, stroking Captain Jack.  
“No, Mrs. Peyton did. She was here and made me breakfast; then she had to leave to run some errands. She asked me to keep lunch warm for y’all.”  
“Thank you, Hannah,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
“Charlie was here as well, but he left with her, to help. They said they won’t be long.”  
Mike smiled broadly. “You got all cleaned up, too,” he said, looking at her still-damp hair and mud-free boots.  
Hannah blushed. “Pa says that just because we don’t have much, don’t mean we can’t do the best with what we got.”  
But Mike wasn’t listening, “I’m so hungry,” he said and felt his mouth water. He could hardly wait to sit down and tuck in. He bent and placed Captain Jack on the floor, before sitting in his usual spot. Then quickly, grabbed his knife and fork, anticipating the pleasure.  
“Ain’t you gonna wash your hands?” Hannah asked.  
“Huh...I...” said Mike, and he stopped and looked at her, his knife and fork poised over his plate.  
Hannah tilted her head to one shoulder and jutting her head forward, peered down at him.  
Mike felt embarrassed. “Oh, okay, I’ll go wash up,” he said, and rising, he headed for the washbasin, poured a trickle of water on his hands, rubbed them, grabbed a towel, wiped them dry, then dashed back to the table.  
The food smelled even better after the brief delay. He grabbed his fork and lifted a tempting morsel. “Well, ain’t you gonna say grace?” said Hannah.  
Mouth open, Mike stopped and glared at her. Only Mom says that to me. Then he stopped as a strange feeling of guilt came over him, and he felt his face flush. “Guess I forgot,” he said, lowering the fork onto his plate.  
“Well, that’s all right. You can say it now,” said Hannah.  
Thinking of his mom, Mike bowed his head and said grace, and when he finished, he waited for the others before diving in. Soon the comforting sound of cutlery clicking on dinner plates reverberated in the kitchen.  
Mike and Hannah finished quickly, an unspoken truce between them. “I’ll do the dishes,” said Mike.  
“I’ll help,’ said Hannah, and together they made their way to the sink.  
Moments later, the door opened and Charlie appeared. “Hi, Miss Gweh,” he said, looking at Mike and Hannah putting the dishes away.  
“Have you eaten?” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Charlie nodded. “Yes, miss, I just had lunch at home with Ma and Pa. Ma said she’s got a lot of errands to run, so I came on my own.”  
“You’re just in time then, Charlie,” said Nolos-Gweh, “I was just about to see if there was anything we could do to help Hannah’s father.”  
“Huh?” said Hannah, “Ain’t no one able to help. Not when sheriff’s got him locked up. That’s why Pa told me to leave” she said.  
“Still, I’d like to do a little investigation into your father’s case. I’d like to visit your hometown, if that’s okay with you” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Hannah looked even more puzzled. “I sure would be obliged ’n’ all. But Miss, I don’t think you realize that Frog Creek’s a long way away from here, and I don’t reckon Pappy be too pleased if I went back, seeing as how it took all of his money to get me this far and I never got to see Uncle Stuart.”  
“You mentioned him yesterday,” said Mike.  
“Uncle Stuart?” repeated Hannah.  
Mike and Charlie nodded together.  
“Ma’s brother. Pa said he’s got more money than he knows what to do with, and maybe he’d be willing to pay DeForrest off so Pa could be freed.”  
“That may not be necessary if we can talk with this Sheriff Bullfein,” said Nolos-Gweh. “Where can we find him?”  
Charlie shook his head. “Hannah’s not from around here, Miss. She told me and Ma that she’s been traveling for days.”  
“That’s right,” said Hannah She looked at Nolos Gweh, “I truly am obliged and all, but like Charlie said, there’s just no quick way a getting there.”  
“Humor me. Just where is Frog Creek, exactly?” said Nolos-Gweh.  
“Pappy used to say it was kind of hard to miss, seeing as how the railway crossed Frog Creek and the big ol’ Mississippi flowed nearby. There just ain’t no way to miss ol’ Miss’ itself.”  
“Before we begin, Hannah, there’s just one thing I have to ask you and it’s very important” Nolos-Gweh began. She turned from Hannah to Charlie. “And you too, Charlie.”  
Hannah and Charlie looked at each other, clearly confused.  
“Hannah, I need you to give me permission to investigate your father’s case...” she continued.  
“I don’t think you understand, miss. It’s really a long way away and—”  
Nolos-Gweh held up a hand. “Let’s not worry quite yet about how long it takes to get there. Will you give me your permission to investigate?”  
Hannah’s face went blank; she stared at Nolos-Gweh.  
“Nolos-Gweh can get anywhere really fast, just so long as you give your say-so,” said Mike.  
Nolos-Gweh nodded.  
“How fast?” said Charlie.  
“You’re not gonna believe how fast,” said Mike.  
“My say-so?” said Hannah.  
“Yeah, so she can check out your pa’s story.”  
“You’ll do that?” said Hannah, rising to her tiptoes and dancing about. “Why Miss, you’ve made me happier than hogs a-swilling. You’ll see Pappy ain’t guilty. You’ll see I’m telling the truth. You can have all the permission you want.”  
Nolos-Gweh looked at Hannah and Charlie, “I just need one more thing from both of you.” Hannah stopped bobbing about. Then she and Charlie looked at each other again and back to Nolos-Gweh, questioningly.  
“I need you to give me your word that whatever I show you will be kept just between us.”  
“Our word?” said Hannah.  
Mike cut in. “Nolos-Gweh just wants your word you won’t go blabbing about what she’s going to show you,” he said.  
“Thank you, Mike. I couldn’t have said it better,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
“Shucks, is that all?” Hannah replied.  
Mike nodded.  
“Why, you can have my say-so for sure,” said Hannah, excitedly. “You too, Mike,” she said, beaming at him.  
“Me too...I guess,” said Charlie.  
“You’re not gonna regret this,” said Mike, looking at them both. He turned to Nolos-Gweh and smiled knowingly at her.  
“Thank you,” said Nolos-Gweh. She rose from the kitchen table and stretching her arm, with her index finger extended, jabbed the air.  
A small disc spun outwards from her fingertip like a roman candle. Rippling like water, it spun ever wider, until it touched the floor and the ceiling, looking like a wheel balanced on its rim. Nolos Gweh withdrew her finger and to the other’s surprise, remained upright, shimmering like a mirror.  
For a moment, Mike, Hannah and Charlie saw their reflections and drew quick breaths. Then, from the center of the disc, a swirl of color widened and swept out to the edge of the disc and an image, blurry at first, appeared. Hannah and Charlie drew back, but Mike who had come to expect the unexpected, move closer, “that’s...neat,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “What’s this one called?” he said.  
“It’s a nodiv,” said Nolos-Gweh. She smiled. “It’s a way to look at distant objects up close, or to look at close objects microscopically. It can even be used to travel to distant places, when it’s fully charged.”  
“Even there?” said Mike.  
“Yes, indeed,” said Nolos-Gweh, “even there.”  
Hannah and Charlie drew closer. Standing alongside Mike, they stared into the nodiv, awestruck.  
Eventually, Mike spoke, “where is that place?” he said.  
But Hannah clamped her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, lawdy, lawdy,” she said. And Mike saw a look of utter astonishment on her face.  
“What’s wrong?” he said.  
Hannah pointed at the nodiv. On it, the image of cotton bushes stretched away in long undulating rows, down a hill to a distant levee, with a river beyond. She looked at each of them in turn. “That...that...it’s DeForrest’s…that’s his cotton fields…I think, but…” she said, totally puzzled.  
The others stared at the nodiv.  
“Where you come from?” said Charlie.  
“Yeah,” replied Hannah, “That’s it for sure. Because there’s the ole willow tree where they lynched folk. Pa told me never to go—“  
“—where they lynched folk?” said Charlie.  
“Yes. He said I’d never know what I might find. Said it was haunted. But me and my friend, Aurelia, went there one Halloween on a dare—done give us the collywobbles.”  
“Is that where you come from, Hannah?” said Charlie.  
Hannah nodded. “And them way down there...they’re prisoners,” she said, pointing to a line of gray-clad men spread out across the rows, near the far end.  
“What are they doing?” said Charlie.  
“Picking cotton,” said Hannah.  
Together they leaned forward to get a better look at the crouching figures in faded striped prison uniforms bending and straightening over the cotton rows. Further back, a pair of prisoners moved awkwardly to the base of the levee, each one hauling a long bulging sack. Charlie pointed at them. “What’s that they’re all dragging?” he said as the prisoners began to clamber laboriously up the levee slope.  
“They’re cotton sacks for holding the pickings,” said Hannah. She pointed to a horse-drawn wagon waiting on top of the levee at the far end of the field and wagged a finger. “That’s the wagon for hauling all the cotton to the mill. Pa said a lot of folk died feeding that ol’ cotton mill.”  
The prisoners on the slope, reached the top of the levee and shuffled to the wagon. “They’re hitched at the ankle like in a three-legged race,” said Mike, as the prisoners tipped their bags onto the wagon.  
“They got leg irons to stop them escaping,” said Hannah, still studying the figures. “That there is Rufus. He’s one of the sheriff’s men,” said Hannah, pointing to a man standing between the nodiv and the prisoners.  
“He looks mean,” said Mike, noticing that Rufus, who had a rifle slung from his shoulder, also had a thick leather whip sticking from his belt, and who seemed to scowl a lot. He turned to Nolos-Gweh, “Can they see or hear us?” he said.  
“No,” said Nolos-Gweh, “not now.”  
“Pappy...it’s Pappy!” said Hannah, reaching towards the nodiv and gesturing excitedly towards a figure at the right end of the bedraggled line of prisoners.  
“No, Hannah, we can’t interfere,” said Nolos-Gweh, standing between Hannah and the nodiv.  
Hannah looked at Nolos-Gweh, her hands still outstretched. Nolos-Gweh spoke softly. “It’s for the best Hannah. I need to speak to Sheriff Bullfein first.”  
“Speak to Sheriff Bullfein?” said Hannah, with a look of surprise. But I thought you said they couldn’t hear us.”  
“Only when we want them to hear us and since he’s the one who jailed your father…please understand, Hannah, I must be sure of the facts.”  
Hannah stared at her.  
“Is the sheriff in there?” said Nolos-Gweh, pointing at the nodiv.  
“No, ma’am. He’ll be at the jailhouse, most likely,” said Hannah, shifting her feet to peer around Nolos-Gweh.  
Nolos-Gweh waved her arm. The image of the cotton field zoomed away and the surrounding countryside seemed to wash in from the rim of the nodiv, complete with a small town.   
“That’s Frog Creek. There’s the jailhouse,” said Hannah, pointing at a square building in the town center.  
Like a stone falling faster and faster, they zoomed in until only the gray wooden roof shingles of the jailhouse was all that appeared in the nodiv. Mike stretched his arms out to steady himself from the induced vertigo and noticed Charlie and Hannah doing the same.  
As if parting curtains, Nolos-Gweh motioned the nodiv. The shingled roof disappeared and Mike found himself looking down on a roofless jailhouse, a large square room with a single prison cell tucked in a corner at the back of the building and two empty desks near the front, facing each other. “Nobody’s home, and”—he pointed to a gun case behind one of the desks, — “the gun case is empty.”  
Without warning, Nolos-Gweh waved her arm again and once more they zoomed to a great height. “There, let’s get closer,” she said, pointing to a truck, kicking up dust as it headed out of the town. She waved her arm again and they seemed to be flying alongside the truck, keeping pace.  
Sitting up front in the cab of the truck, two men stared glum-faced through the windshield, the driver hanging on to the steering wheel while his passenger had his hand out the window, holding onto the roof as the truck rattled and bounced.  
“They’re so close,” said Mike. “I could almost touch them.”  
Hannah pointed to the passenger, “That’s the sheriff,” she said with a look of disgust.  
The sheriff, a fat man, removed his sweat stained hat and poked his head out the cab window. He took the cigar out of his mouth and yelled. “You boys, had better hang on back there.” he shouted to the three men bouncing about in the bed of the truck behind, “I don’t want to lose my investment,” he said, and guffawed.  
Sitting on a plank stretched between the sideboards of the wooden truck-bed, their backs against the cab, three men sat, bouncing and shuddering. The two on the outside, gripping the seat with one hand and holding a rifle with the other. While the one in the middle, gripped his knees and looked at his manacled hands and feet.  
“That’s Aurelia’s pa, Leroy…Leroy Ryder. Something ain’t right,” said Hannah, “he never did anybody any harm,”  
Then, Leroy turned from one deputy to the other flanking him. “Why, y’all doing this?” he asked.  
The deputies made no reply. Instead, they continued looking over the back of the truck and its swirling dust, ignoring him.  
Leroy pressed his back against the truck cab, his manacled hands resting on his knees. He looked to the guard on his right. “Mr. Virgil, sir, you knows I’m innocent. You know it be true.”  
Virgil rolled his head against the back of the cab and looked at him, “Because that’s the way things is. If it ain’t me, then it’s just gonna be someone else,” he said. He lifted the butt of his rifle off the truck bed and stamped it down again. “Now quit bellyaching,” he said, and spat a stream of brown spittle over the side of the truck.  
“I still got a crop to get,” said Leroy. “Tell me, how am I supposed to pay DeForrest back if I ain’t gonna be around to bring it in?”  
“Ain’t none of my concern, I’m just following sheriff’s orders,” Virgil replied.  
Nolos-Gweh waved her arm and the image of the truck grew distant. Mike spotted a girl running in the truck’s dust. “Who’s she?” he asked.  
“That’s Aurelia,” said Hannah. “She’s gonna be all alone like me if her pa gets thrown in jail.”  
They followed the truck and minutes later it slowed and came to a halt outside a house ringed by a white fence. But the dust it kicked up rolled on, enveloping it. When it cleared, Mike noticed a sign by the garden gate. “‘John T. Mayne’?” said Mike quizzically. “Why are they stopping there?” he asked.   
Hannah did not reply. Instead, she was concentrating on the sight before her, growing more agitated by the second, “Ooh...this don’t look good. He’s the justice of the peace. He’s the one done sent Pappy to jail. That’s him there,” she said, pointing to a man rocking back and forth on the house porch, fanning himself with his straw hat. Beside him was a small wicker table, with a bottle and some tumblers.  
“Hi, John,” the sheriff called. He opened the cab door and swung his legs out of the truck. Hitching up his pants, he waddled to the porch.  
The justice stopped rocking and put his hat on his head. “You look thirsty, Abe,” he said.  
The sheriff clambered up the porch steps, and slapped a sheet of paper on the table. While the justice, poured drinks into two tumblers and slid one across the table to the sheriff. “What you all got there, Abe?” he asked.  
“Leroy Ryder, and he be owing DeForrest,” he said. He reached for the tumbler and brought it to his lips, then with a quick tilt of the head, downed its contents in one swig. He turned and beckoned to the two deputies flanking Leroy.  
Virgil prodded Leroy, who rose awkwardly to his feet. When he reached the end of the truck bed, he bent down and leaning on an elbow, managed to get to a sitting position with his legs dangling over the end of the truck. Then, dropping onto the ground, turned towards the house.   
When he reached its porch steps, he looked up at the justice of the peace. The justice looked down impatiently at him, then picked up the sheet of paper, the sheriff had slapped on the table. “Well, boy, what you have got to say about this,” he said, wagging the sheet at Leroy.  
“It must be a mistake, sir. I don’t owes Mr. DeForrest any money, sir. All I did was get a loan to buy seed from him. I ain’t supposed to settle until I sells the crop, sir.”  
“Well that’s not what this here slip of paper says, boy,” the justice said, and he leaned forward. “What you did or did not do, ain’t none of my business. All I want to know is, do you have the money you owe Mr. DeForrest?”  
“All the money’s in my crop, sir,” pleaded Leroy.  
“Now ain’t that just like you, Leroy?” Judge Mayne replied. “You is just like they say in the good book, ain’t you. Yeah, you is just like one of them fools who used up all their oil before the master of the house came home. Then when time came to light the lanterns, they had no more oil.” He paused and poked a finger at Leroy. “Yes sir, just like you, and now you ain’t got no money when your master comes a-looking for what is rightfully his. He wagged a finger at Leroy, “Now that just ain’t right. No sir, it ain’t right at all.”  
The front door of the house opened, and a tall, well-groomed figure, smoking a cigar and holding a drink, emerged onto the porch. As if surprised to see anyone else there, he stopped and turned to look at Leroy surrounded by the sheriff and the two guards. The end of his cigar glowed as he drew on it. Then he exhaled, sending the smoke skyward.  
“Well, boy,” said the justice, “it seems that you’ve got more luck than brains, because Mr. Braxton DeForrest here is a generous man, and he don’t want you a-rotting in jail forever.” He leaned on the table and gestured indignantly at Leroy. “Mr. DeForrest here is willing to forgive your debt in return for three months service. Now that’s what I call downright generous.”  
The justice gestured toward the cigar-smoking onlooker, and Braxton DeForrest wagged his cigar and raised his drink. Judge Mayne bowed gravely in return. “Mighty generous, sir. Mighty generous,” he said. Turning back to face Leroy, he jabbed the sheet on the table, “So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll just sign on this here line, and put all of this nasty business behind you. Why you’ll be a free man in three months.”   
Leroy shook his head. “But I ain’t due to repay Mr. DeForrest until cotton picking’s done, sir.”  
The justice pointed to a line on the page. “Well that’s not what’s written here, boy,” he paused and looked at Leroy, “You know what it says here, boy?”  
Leroy, his shirt dark with sweat, looked to where the justice was pointing and then at the justice. “Ne...never had no schooling,” he said, his voice barely audible.  
“Speak up, boy,” the justice said.  
“Can’t read, sir,” said Leroy, his voice a little louder.  
“Well if you could, you’d see it says that payment is due on demand.” the justice said. “On demand, sir and Mr. DeForrest here wants payment now.” He straightened and mopped his brow. “Well, boy, you got the money?”  
“No, sir.”  
The justice gestured to the sheriff. The sheriff nodded and leaned in to Leroy. “You ain’t got a choice, boy,” he said. He gestured to the guard on the right side of Leroy. “Unlock his shackles so he can make his mark.”  
Leroy turned to Braxton DeForrest. “I just need more time. The cotton’s almost ripe for picking, sir.”   
Braxton DeForrest strutted to a bench at the end of the porch and sat down, expressionless. He held his cigar up to examine it. Clearly, this business was beneath him.  
“I’ll pay you every cent—” Leroy began, as the sheriff gestured to Virgil, “—that I borr—”  
Virgil jabbed the butt of his rifle into Leroy’s back.   
“Ugh...” said Leroy, falling to his knees.  
A pained cry came from the roadway, “Pappy!”.  
“Aurelia!” Hannah shouted as she bounced from one foot to the other. She looked at Nolos Gweh her hands clamped across her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears.  
“Can’t we stop them?” said Mike.  
“No, Mike, we cannot interfere.” Nolos-Gweh turned to Hannah. “I’m sorry. We don’t have a choice. We can only watch.”  
The sheriff bent down and hissed in Leroy’s ear. “We ain’t got all day, boy, and it ain’t right for your girl here to see you like this,” he said, pointing to Aurelia.  
Leroy glanced at his daughter. The sheriff mopped his brow and spoke again. “Now listen up good, Leroy, because Mr. DeForrest is a busy man and he could take back his generous offer and you’ll be spending a lot more than three months in jail. You want to risk that? Ain’t your girl here been through enough already?”  
Nobody spoke for a few seconds.  
The sheriff shook his head. “Don’t you see, Leroy? It’s gonna be a lot easier for everyone if you sign. Why, in just three months you’ll have paid off the debt and be home picking cotton. Now, ain’t that a whole lot better than losing it all over this here foolishness?”  
Leroy looked sideways at Aurelia. She was dabbing her eyes with her apron. Leroy’s chin fell to chest, and slowly, he nodded. “Ye-yes...sir,” he said, his voice low, quiet like a whisper.  
The sheriff stood up, “I can’t hear you, boy,” he said, grinning at the hunched figure on the ground.  
Leroy raised his head and looked from Aurelia to the justice of the peace, a fierce determination on his face. He struggled to his feet, resolve etched in his features. He looked directly from the sheriff to the justice and back again. “Yes, sir,” he said, stabbing out the words.  
“Now you’re getting a lick of sense, boy,” said the sheriff, and he looked at Braxton DeForrest. Both men nodded.  
Leroy shook free from the deputies and looked back at Aurelia, “It’s okay, honey. It’s gonna be all right,” he said, forcing a smile.  
The justice held out a pen to Leroy. “Make your mark here,” he said, pointing to a line at the end of the page. Leroy took the pen and looked at the paper.  
A sudden breeze rustled a nearby bush and blew across the table. The page fluttered and took to the air. Then everything in the nodiv stood still—even the page hung motionless in the air, the words ‘SIX MONTHS WITH LABOR’ clearly visible.  
Mike looked at Nolos-Gweh as she guided the nodiv through the still scene and stopped in front of the sheriff. He was so close that Mike could have kicked him—he certainly wanted to.  
But instead, Nolos-Gweh thrust her hand through the nodiv and touched the sheriff’s temple with two fingers. “Is Leroy guilty?” she asked.  
“No, I just made up the charge,” the sheriff replied.  
“Why?”  
“DeForrest pays me for every peon I can supply,” said the sheriff tonelessly.  
Nolos-Gweh withdrew her arm and guided the nodiv towards the justice of the peace until he stood just on the other side. “Is Leroy innocent?” she asked, holding her fingers to the side of his head.  
“Yes.”  
“And the contract you said he signed?”  
“DeForrest destroyed it,—the X on the contract is not Leroy’s. It’s a forgery.”   
“Why are you sentencing him, then?”  
“If I don’t, I’ll lose the next election. DeForrest wants Leroy’s land and water rights, and when the crops come in, we’ll get our share.”  
“Why six months? Why not the three months he was told he owed?” Nolos-Gweh asked.  
“That was just to convince him to sign.”  
Nolos-Gweh withdrew her hand and looked at Hannah, “What is your father’s first name?”  
“Pappy’s name is Robert, ma’am,” replied Hannah.  
Nolos-Gweh turned to the justice again and touched his temple like before, “Are the charges against Robert Leigh and Leroy’s brother Julius Ryder also made up?”  
“Yes,” the justice said.  
Nolos-Gweh withdrew her arm from the image.  
Mike looked at her with a plaintiff expression, “Can’t you do anything?” he asked.  
Nolos-Gweh shook her head and turned to Hannah. “I’m sorry, there is nothing I can do. I cannot interfere. I thought that with knowing the truth, it would enable your father to be freed.” she said.  
Hannah held out her hands to Nolos-Gweh, her face wet with tears. “But—” she said.  
“—they’re innocent,” said Charlie.  
“Nolos-Gweh’s not allowed to interfere,” said Mike, feeling sick and shaking his head. “She told me about a law where she comes from.” He looked at Nolos-Gweh. “Isn’t there anything…you can do?”  
Nolos-Gweh shook her head and looked from Mike to Hannah, “I’m sorry Hannah,” she said and waved her arm.  
The paper with the jail sentence fluttered in the air. The sheriff snatched at it, caught it, and slapped it flat on the table.   
Shaking, Leroy took the pen and placed his mark on the page. He turned to look at Aurelia. “You be strong now, honey, until all this is behind us,” he said, the muscles on his jaw twitching.  
“Yes, Pappy, I…I will” said Aurelia as tears traced muddy tracks on her dust covered cheeks. Leroy nodded to her and smiled.  
Virgil grabbed Leroy by the arm and turned him around. He looked at the deputy and shook him off. “Don’t you give me no trouble now, boy,” Virgil said, prodding his gun into Leroy’s back.  
Leroy winced and strode back through the gate, climbed onto the truck, and sitting down between the deputies once more, looked at Aurelia and smiled.  
The sheriff walked to the gate and stopped. He reached down between a bush and the gatepost and Mike heard the scrape and jangle of metal as the sheriff lifted leg irons into view and threw them at Leroy’s feet. “Put them on, boy,” he said and stepped onto the running board, before slumping down on the passenger seat. Panting and patting his sweating forehead with his handkerchief, he turned to the driver, “Get going,” he said.  
The truck lurched forward. “Pappy!” cried Aurelia as she raced after the truck.  
Mike bent down and clutched Captain Jack in his arms. Beside him, Nolos Gweh, Hannah, and Charlie stood motionless, staring into the nodiv—numb, in the silence of the room.


	14. Impulse

Mike and the others were still staring at the nodiv as Nolos-Gweh waved her arm again.   
The scene changed, and once again, Mike found himself looking along rows of cotton from the top of the hill. Below them the line of prisoners had advanced a little. Mike wondered about how many were like Hannah’s father and Aurelia’s Pa and uncle.   
Suddenly, a cry from Hannah shook him back to reality, “Pappy…” she cried, reaching once again to the figure in the nodiv. “Please, I need to talk to him...please. I want to tell him I’m safe. Tell him I need to go back for Aurelia.”  
“Hannah...your father wouldn’t want you to see him like this,” said Nolos-Gweh.  
Mike watched as Hannah searched for words, her mouth moving soundlessly, while Charlie shuffled uneasily beside him.  
“Ain’t she got any relatives?” said Mike.  
“Only Gemma-May, but they ain’t related. I have to go back.” sniffled Hannah.  
“Go back...how?” said Charlie. “It must have taken over a week to get here,”  
“It took me three weeks.”  
“And now you’ve got no money…it will take forever” continued Charlie.  
“I don’t care, I just got to, that’s all,” said Hannah.  
Mike turned to Nolos-Gweh. “Couldn’t she go through the nodiv?” he asked. “I could go with her to make sure she’s okay.”  
“Not without me,” said Charlie.  
Nolos-Gweh shook her head again, “I’m sorry. In any case, the power levels are dangerously low. If the nodiv collapses, you all could be killed,” she said, turning away.  
A sudden cry of “No, Hannah!” from Charlie made Mike spin around.   
Hannah was making a beeline for the nodiv.  
With Captain Jack squirming in one hand, Mike reached for her and caught her arm with his other. Hannah jerked it free. “Hold her, Charlie” he said to Charlie, who was also struggling to restrain Hannah.  
Mike grabbed her flailing arm again, but she was slippery. With her arms and legs wind-milling, trying to break free, Mike struggled to hold her and Captain Jack, all the while, trying to remain upright. “Ouch,” he cried, as Hannah’s elbow poked him in the eye. Then he felt her heel trip on his foot, “Oh no, she’s falling!” he said.  
“I can’t hold her,” cried Charlie, straining to hold her back.  
Then it happened; together, all three of them along with Captain Jack fell headlong through the nodiv. And as he fell, Mike glanced back towards Nolos-Gweh, rushing to reach them. Then she was gone. It was all over in an instant.


	15. CHANGE

The cotton bush was prickly. Mike felt it scratch his face. He reached up to protect himself, letting go of Captain Jack.   
“Get off me,” said Hannah, pushing Charlie away.  
Mike looked around. Hannah was lying on her back across a cotton row, Charlie lay next to her, facedown between two bushes. They got to their feet and looked around. “Where’s Nolos-Gweh?” said Charlie.  
“Yeah and the holey thingy?” said Hannah.  
Disentangling himself from the bush, Mike looked around for the nodiv, without success. “It was just about here,” he said and looked at the others. Groping the air, he looked at the other, “Help me find it,” he said.  
They nodded and with arms outstretched, swept the air, groping at where they thought the nodiv should be. “It’s gotta be here, somewhere,” said Charlie.  
“Where’d it get to?” Hannah asked.  
“Dunno,” said Mike.  
“Maybe it’s broke,” said Charlie.  
“Hope not,” said Mike and he remembered the sight of Nolos-Gweh before she disappeared. “I looked back as we fell and saw Nolos-Gweh trying to catch us. One second she was there…then…” He looked at Hannah’s and Charlie’s shocked expressions.   
“Keep searching,” said Charlie  
But after a while, the result was obvious. “I think...it’s gone,” said Mike. They stopped and looked around, letting their hands fall limp at their sides.   
Hannah stiffened, “Oh no…”  
“What?” said Mike and Charlie.  
“See that big feller there.” said Hannah. They looked to where she was pointing, “The one with the rifle and the whip on his belt?”  
“Yeah,” said Mike.  
“He’s the overseer. Pa says he ain’t no kin to the sheriff, but he’s just as mean. So we better not let him see us.”  
“Why? We never did him any harm,” said Charlie.  
“Because, he knows who Hannah is. Let’s just lay low for now,” said Mike and he looked down the hill.  
The overseer was looking at them, trying to make sense of the figures on top of the hill. “Get down!” warned Mike, and he grabbed Charlie and Hannah, and pulled them down. “Stay low, I think he saw us.”   
Mike crept forward and cautiously lifted his head above the tops of the bushes, before quickly ducking back down again. “He’s coming this way.”  
The others looked at him fearfully.   
“I’m sure he saw us…we got to hide.” They looked at each other searchingly. “Okay,” said Mike, “follow me.”  
He crawled over the top of the hill and down the other side, followed by Hannah and Charlie, with Captain Jack easily keeping pace alongside. “We have to get far enough down so we can cut across the rows without being seen.”  
They crawled on, scurrying as fast as they could, down the back side of the hill. Mike stopped and slowly stood up. “This is far enough, I think,” said Mike. “If we cut across a few rows and lay low, hopefully, he won’t find us,” he said. And squeezing through a row of bushes that tore and scratched at his clothes, he moved sideways across the slope of the hill, followed by Hannah and Charlie.   
Several rows later he stopped. “This should do it, I hope,” he said and lay flat between the rows, drawing Captain Jack alongside. Scarcely daring to breathe, they waited. Moments later, they heard the overseer call out.  
“Gonna get me some deer, boys,” he shouted from the other side of the hill.  
“He thinks we’re deer,” whispered Hannah.  
“Must have thought our arms were antlers,” said Charlie  
Then they heard him call back down the hill again, “Julius,” the overseer shouted.  
“Yes, boss,” a distant voice replied.  
“That’s Julius, Aurelia’s uncle,” Hannah whispered.  
“You see that big ole cotton bush behind you?” the overseer said.  
“Yeah, boss,” Julius replied.  
“Well, seeing as how you and Bobby Leigh is just too darned lazy to pick it, I’m gonna do it for you.”  
“Boss, that be awfully close,” Julius said.  
“You saying I’m a bad shot?”  
“No, boss.”  
“Then stand still,” the overseer said.  
A shot rang out and a man yelled.  
Mike saw the alarmed look on Hannah’s face and she started to rise. “Stay down,” he hissed.  
“You shot, Julius!” another voice from over the hill shouted.  
Hannah froze. “It’s Pappy,” she said with a look of relief on her face.  
And from over the hill, her father called out to the overseer again, “He’s bleeding something bad. I saw guys get shot like this in the war and they bled to death. We got to get him to doc’s place fast.”  
“Shut your lying mouth, Leigh, or so help me, I’ll plug you too,” the overseer yelled.  
“Pappy,” said Hannah, scuttling on all fours toward the crest of the hill.  
Mike scrambled after her. “Hannah...no.”  
Hannah paused at the top of the hill. Mike and Charlie drew level with her in adjacent rows. Lifting their heads, they saw the overseer hustling down the hill. At the bottom, the prisoners had discarded their cotton sacks and were huddled around someone on the ground.  
“I don’t see Pappy,” said Hannah.  
Mike turned to look at her. But she was too fast. “Hannah,” he cried in a loud whisper and he reached between the bushes to grab hold of her—and failed. Together he and Charlie gave chase, each one scurrying down adjacent rows, Hannah in the middle. Half-way down the hill, her dress snagged on a bush. Mike and Charlie reached through the rows and caught hold of her. “Get away from—” she managed to say before Mike clamped his other hand over her mouth.   
“You’ll get us all caught, Hannah,” he whispered. She turned and looked at him. Mike saw the determination in her eyes dim a little, “Okay to take my hand away?” he asked.  
Hannah nodded.  
“Sheriff’s coming,” said Charlie, pointing to a truck riding along the top of the levee. It drew level with the cotton rows where the prisoners were gathered and stopped. Virgil dropped from the truck and pointed his gun at Leroy as the driver and the other guard came to join him.   
The sheriff stood at the edge of the levee and looked down at the huddle of prisoners in the cotton field. “Rufus, what in blazes is going on down there?” he shouted.  
“Prisoner’s been shot, Sheriff,” the overseer replied.  
The sheriff took off his hat and drew his arm across his brow. “What happened?” he asked, wiping the hat brim.   
“It were an accident, Sheriff. I didn’t mean—”  
“Shut up, Rufus. You’ve done enough talking for now,” the sheriff said placing his hat on his head again. He made his way, slipping and sliding, down the levee slope and walked toward the huddle of prisoners. They parted as he drew near them and he looked down at the man on the ground. Then he turned and shouted up to those on the levee, “You three, get Leroy down here.”  
The guard on the truck motioned Leroy, and all four, the driver, the other guard and Virgil, descended the slope. When they reached the sheriff, he turned to Rufus and Virgil, “You two stay here with Leroy. The rest of you get back to camp.”  
But the prisoners only shuffled on the spot and looked at one another.  
The sheriff raised his gun and fired into the air. “I said, NOW!”  
The knot of prisoners loosened and slowly shuffled to the bottom of the levee, leaving their sacks behind. Mike heard their chains as they clambered up the slope, followed by their guards.  
At the top, they hustled past the half-loaded cotton wagon, and when the last prisoner passed, the wagon driver flapped the reins. “Move on, mule,” he said. The mule raised its head and jerked forward.  
Mike watched as the wagon fell in behind the prisoner column and a sudden movement in the next row of bushes caught his attention. “Come back, you’ll get us caught,” he said through gritted teeth as he reached through the bushes, he tried to grab hold of Hannah, scurrying down the slope towards her father.  
Mike and Charlie scrambled after her, followed by Captain Jack. “Hannah,” said Charlie in a low voice, but she kept going.  
When she reached a spot, level with the group of prisoners, but several rows away from them, she stopped. When Mike and Charlie caught up, she pointed underneath the bushes. “That’s Pappy,” said Hannah.   
Mike turned around and looked to where she was pointing, but all he could see was someone in prison clothes, on his back while another prisoner, visible from the neck down with a pouch on a string swinging from around his neck, pressed a wad of cotton against Julius’s leg. “How do you know it’s your pappy?” he said.  
“The pouch, he always wears it around his neck,” said Hannah.  
“Hold on, Julius,” said Hannah’s pa.  
Someone else knelt beside Julius. And Julius gripped his arm. “You is gonna be okay, Julius,” the newcomer said, and Mike recognized Aurelia’s father, Leroy. “You is gonna be all right, brother,” continued Leroy, placing a half filled bag of cotton under his brother’s head.  
“Rufus, get over here,” the sheriff barked. And Mike, the closest to the drama a few rows away, watched as the polished boots of the sheriff and Rufus came closer. He looked at Charlie and Hannah, and pressed a finger to his lips.   
“What the blazes happened?” the sheriff said.  
“It were an accident, Sheriff. I thought I saw some deer on top of the hill. It looked like a ten pointer and I was making my way up to get a closer shot. Then, when I turned around, to check on the prisoners, I saw them all slacking. So I fired a shot…didn’t mean to hit anyone. I was just getting them back to work is all.”  
“You got me a whole mess o’ trouble here, Rufus. Because now I got me a situation.”  
“Situation, Sheriff?” said Rufus, in a trembling voice.  
“Now you listen up good. Because if ole Julius here dies, I don’t want no nosey federal investigator feller poking his nose in round here,” said the sheriff.  
“Investigator?”  
“Is nothing able to get through your thick skull? What do you think’s gonna happen? Don’t you remember the last time a prisoner got shot? Darn it, Rufus. If there’s an investigation, I won’t be able to stop you swinging this time.”  
“What...what am I gonna do Sheriff? You gotta help me,” said Rufus shuffling his feet, almost dancing on the spot.  
“Just stay calm Rufus, because we ain’t gonna let that happen. Now you and me...we gonna take care of this messy business ourselves. Just do like I tell you, keep your mouth shut, and everything will be fine, just like the last time.”  
“Julius!” Leroy cried. Mike looked to where Julius lay. “No…” said Leroy, his voice choked as he cradled his brother tighter and rocked back and forth. Mike watched as Julius’s hand slipped from Leroy’s arm and fell to the ground. The sheriff’s boots moved quickly towards Julius, followed closely by those of Rufus.   
“He ain’t dead,” said the sheriff. “He’s just unconscious. Now don’t you fret none, because we gonna get him some medical attention. Fix him up good. Ole Julius here’s gonna be right as rain.”  
Mike heard a gun being cocked. “Rufus, put Julius’s shackle on Leroy,”  
“But, he’s already shackled,” replied Rufus.  
“Now why don’t you do just like I tell you, Rufus? Take the shackle off Julius and use it to hitch Leroy to Bobby Leigh, so we can get to Doc’s place,” the sheriff insisted.  
“Want me to take off Leroy’s irons first?” said Rufus.  
“No darn it. We don’t want to give Leroy any ideas about running off now, do we? We can take his off later,” replied the sheriff.  
Mike watched as Rufus removed the shackles from Julius and put them around Leroy’s leg. “That’s a whole lot better,” the sheriff said. “You boys is just bound and determined on escaping...now ain’t you?”  
Mike felt queasy.  
“Now you boys, get Julius to the top of the levee so we can get him some help,” continued the sheriff.   
Two pairs of hands lifted Julius upright and dragged him to the bottom of the levee. Mike looked at Hannah and Charlie, and together they raised their heads and peered cautiously over the bushes.  
They watched the men clambering up the grassy slope. The sheriff, Rufus and Virgil reached the top first, while Leroy and Hannah’s father, Robert, with Julius between them, his arms draped across their shoulders, pulled on tufts of grass, laboriously dragging themselves and Julius as they struggled towards the top.  
Every now and then, Mike heard a groan when one of them slipped, dragging the other down. Minutes later, panting breathlessly, they reached the top and fell, face down, onto the top of the levee, prostrate at the sheriff’s feet, their common chain taut and the limp form of Julius between them.


End file.
